


A Strange Year

by Ravolox



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 137,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravolox/pseuds/Ravolox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Who is a long-established, British TV series which is very popular around the world. It tells the adventures of the mysterious traveller who calls himself the Doctor. But what if it isn't just a tale? Every legend has some truth, after all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Strange Day

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Egy különös év](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/87608) by GRMoss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is my "project" with G. R. Moss who has the original fanfiction's rights.

Andrew McAllistair was an ordinary seventeen years old boy. He lived on Russell Street with his family in a neat little house, from 15 minutes’ walk from Trafalgar Square. His days went by in allotted order with a few changes; he woke up in the morning, had breakfast then took a metro to South Hampstead High School, learnt, wrote tests then went home and, wearily, to bed. His weekends were ordinary too, in similar ways as his weekdays, except school. In days like those, he lengthened his waking up until he could, left out his breakfast and if he could, watched his favourite series. Then he went to bed and waited his daily routine to continue itself from the beginning.

Only one thing made him differ from the big part of the world’s population (except twelve million other humans) and it was that he lived in London. And often not that ordinary, as it were strange things happened in London.

The Friday of December 21 also started similarly, with the usual breakfast and going to school. Andrew and his friend, Dave Dankins decided that they walk home on the last school day, instead of jolting on a metro. Dave lived a couple of streets away from them but closer to school, so when they said goodbyes in front of Dave’s house, Andrew was left alone. He started slowly towards their house when he tightened his scarf around his neck and thought about that the weather is really chilly now, however, there weren’t any snow, as per usual. He sneaked from one little street to the other, watching the streamclouds which were coming from his mouth. He avoided the main roads. He liked the silence better.

He wasn’t so far from his home, he was walking in an adjacent alleyway when he heard weird scratching noises behind him then a loud clicking’s sound could be heard. He span around suddenly but he could only see a toppled trash bin in front of him, the alley was extinct. He snatched off his cap, puckering his forehead, digging into his hair and putting the headgear back again. He didn’t know why but he often prodded his hair when he was nervous. 

‘Maybe it’s only a stray dog,’ he thought to himself then unhurriedly started to walk, humming the theme of his favourite series. He took only a couple of steps when there was a shout:

”Duck, kid!”

He didn’t know where the voice came from but he obeyed and crouched down. And in this moment, something got ploughed above his head. A thing that he couldn’t observe so much because someone dragged him away from where he’d been.

A man clutched his shoulder. It was cold but he wore a simple drab jacket which wasn’t buttoned up. His white shirt could be seen and it was as if Andrew could see a suspender’s bend on him. The man quickly span him behind himself. The boy looked at the other’s face for a moment which seemed childishly young but very worried then Andrew could only see his back.

“Sorry if it hurt but run a little! Believe it, it makes good for you!”

“Still, who are you?” Andrew furrowed his brows.

“The Doctor! And now, run!” the other snapped at him.

“Doctor? Doctor Who?” Andrew’s eyes suddenly rounded and he whispered incredulously. “Doctor Who…” He fainted. 

“That isn’t imp…” the man turned back then sighed. “And now this?”

 

 

Andrew slowly opened his eyes and started to regain consciousness. At first he felt that his head hurt, he probably hit it. He lifted his hand up, touching it. He’s not bleeding, he found out. He took a big breath and he remembered what happened on the street. He sat up suddenly.

At first sight, he could have said that he was lying a huge room’s cold steel floor but he knew in an instant that it is more than that. Behind his back, there was two white-painted doorwings, standing in a blue frame and one of them had an ancient-looking telephone on its top. There was a hat-rack next to the boy and opposite him, a little staircase led to a podium with fence around it. At its centre a hexagonal-shaped, divided formation was linked (by a pillar) with the ceiling in which some bubble-like orbs floated. The man from the alley leaned onto one of the counters while he observed his watch which was affixed to his left wrist. He noticed the conscious boy, walked down the stairs and sat onto the bottommost step and, opposite Andrew.

“Isn’t there a problem with your blood pressure?” he asked.

“This is amazing!” broke out from the kid involuntarily. “Much cooler in reality!” He got up from the floor, dusted himself down, turned around then suddenly ran to his saviour (he saved him, Andrew was sure of it), took his hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you, Doctor! I don’t know whether anyone thanked you but I do. In the name of the Earth as well. Wow, I never thought that I will be able to shake hands with the Doctor! They won’t believe me this.”

The Doctor stood up and pushed the boy gently away from him.

“Excuse me but you are incredibly weird. Didn’t you hit your head much?”

“I’ve met you!” Andrew spluttered on. “The Doctor. The real one.”

“Of course that you’ve met the real one.” The Doctor fiddled with his fingers while he didn’t really understand what was going on and it wasn’t like him.

The boy didn’t trouble himself but went on.

“Saviour of worlds, the Lonely Traveller who always needs a partner. It’s mind-blowing!” He squeezed the Doctor’s hand again. “I’m Andrew, by the way, Andrew McAllistair. Huge fan of yours. I would have so much questions… How is Susan? And Jenny? Why did you change the lock which had twenty-one keyholes? Do you know how will Captain Jack become the Face of Boe?” He suddenly fell silent. He looked at the Doctor and noticed his austere expression or rather, his more austere look. Andrew’s gaze slipped lower, over the sharp chin, right until the Doctor’s neck.

“Where is the bow tie?” he asked another question flabbergasted, the smile froze from his face.

“No more bow tie,” the stranger mumbled, turning his back to his fan.

He walked onto the podium, snatched up a school bag from one of the seats and threw it to the boy. Andrew caught it, straining it.

“But… but…” he stammered.

“Here you go! You can leave!”

“But what happened?”

“Why do you care? You should be glad that you’re alive! Go home to your loving parents and enjoy the holidays!”

Andrew didn’t move.

“It was now, wasn’t it? You lost Amy recently?”

“What? Why do you think that?” the Doctor clanged but Andrew saw that the got to the point.

Andrew took a step closer to the podium.

“That’s why there isn’t any bow ties, that’s why the atmosphere here is gloomy. The place is almost pierced by the pain.” He pointed at the man’s arm. “I spotted when you played with your hand. The watch… isn’t working. You’re looking at it but it doesn’t working. It doesn’t want to move on, either.”

“Watch?” yelled the Doctor. “Of course!”

He ran up on one of the stairs then he came back with a seemingly weird thing in his hand. The object was grey and it was built up by three identical, different sized, bent pieces which was cut in two ways and an internal orb which shone brightly. It rotated madly and screamed.

“The attack, the Pluvian chimera, the questions… all of this play is about this, isn’t it? That’s why you know that much about me and my…” he swallowed, “doings. You are the maker of the Eternity Clock. You came to check, eh? That I made a progress with it? But I don’t handle it anymore. The universe’s most enormous thing  _does not interest me,_ ” he told Andrew, angrily. “Take it, here! Give it to someone else!”

This time Andrew was who looked as if he would be at a loss. He recognised the Clock, he saw it before but it wasn’t him who made it. He was just an average human, as he explained this.

“I certainly didn’t make it. No, I just…”

But the Doctor already pushed the Clock towards him which started to emit a blinding light from itself in this moment. Andrew dropped his bag to catch the weird object and he felt its warmth. In the next minute, the light faded. The boy blinked and blew out the air which he didn’t know he was holding.

“Why it became this cold?” he asked.

He noticed the Doctor’s widened eyes and as he took the Clock from his hand, he realised the cause of the sudden cold. His clothes vanished without a trace except his underwear.

“Bad Clock, very bad Clock!” the Doctor murmured when he disappeared on the corridor on which he brought it. “Dress up!” he shouted back, his voice echoing. “Climb the other stairs then the TARDIS will take you to the changing room!”

Andrew followed the man’s instruction and he soon got to the mentioned room. After a few picking, he found himself a pair of grey jeans, a light green T-shirt and a brown jacket. Between the vast amount of clothes and accessories, he saw a blue helmet which had darkened glass in front. He put it on and it fitted his head. He thought he tries out something.

When he got back to the console, the Doctor already waited him. As he appeared, the Doctor pointed at his head.

“What is that?” he inquired.

“Helmet. I’m wearing a helmet now. Helmets are cool!”

“No, they aren’t.” The Doctor’s lips seemed to be one, sharp line.

Andrew took the helmet down, accompanied with a contrite expression and a powerless murmur.

“Sorry, it just wanted to be a joke! You know because you’re always saying that. You say it with fezzes and Stetsons!”

“You’re mistaken, I’ve never said anything like this! And if we are at this point, let me ask the question: where do you know me from?”

“Erm, may I?” Andrew opened his bag and pulled out his laptop.

Thank God that he took it with him in the morning to show something to Dave. He turned it on, typed in his password and opened the ‘Videos’ folder. The Doctor sidestepped and watched the screen above the boy’s shoulder.

“What are these?” The Doctor puckered his forehead. “Records?”

“Episodes,” Andrew replied. “Don’t you know about this? You are the main character of a popular, British TV series on Earth. This is my favourite show, by the way. Thinking about it, you really resemble to Matt Smith a little.”

“At best, he resembles to me,” the Time Lord told him, scratching his chin.

“That ‘cool’ thing is also from this.”

Andrew, to emphasise what he just said, he looked for the episode  _The Impossible Astronaut_ and pressed play. The Doctor listened to the intro and as his history’s pieces were played by actors (almost with word for word sentences) with fascination until his character stated: ‘Stetson. I’m wearing a Stetson now. Stetsons are cool.’

“Maybe, I did say that,” he admitted. “Are you happy now?”

“So it wasn’t fabricated by the script writers,” Andrew added with a half-smile and stopped the player.

“I don’t understand how can someone know this much about my life?”

He pulled out a little, cylinder-shaped thing from his jacket’s pocket in which Andrew realised the sonic screwdriver. On the bronze body’s end, there were little claws which straddled the green crystal in the centre. The Doctor snapped it out then turned it on. The tool’s humming, screaming voice filled the room as its owner swung it in front of the laptop. As he finished, he lifted the sonic to his face.

“I get strange signals!” he said thoughtfully then turned to Andrew. “Tell me, Andy, who made this?”

“Andrew,” the lad corrected him. “The BBC. As I know, they were who always made this.”

“Hold on!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Andrew, put the helmet back again.”

The boy dutifully closed the laptop, put it away and took on the helmet again.

“Formerly I was at a film studio in the seventies which was at the BBC’s hand,” the Time Lord explained. “I met there with a helmeted individual who really, really resembled to you, and if I’m right, then…” He turned the sonic on again and this time it was Andrew who he swung the sonic in front of. “Yes, just as I thought. You were that person, from about five minutes later.”

“What will happen to me five minutes later?” The boy lost countenance.

“I’ll send you back in time!” the Doctor pronounced with a triumphant smile. “Then again, there’s a problem. I have to do this as not to recognise my own hand’s work. Vortex Manipulator is out of the question, it can be tracked down, and moreover, I don’t have any. I can’t take you back with the TARDIS, I would cross my own timeline, so… I’ll throw you out of the TARDIS.”

“What?” Andrew was taken aback, his face went pale although the Doctor couldn’t see that.

“You heard it right. If my idea’s right, hope so, then I’ll throw you out in the appropriate point of the Time Vortex, you’ll take a quick voyage through the Nothing and end up in 1973, England. If I’m wrong…” He fell silent. “I’m not wrong. Are you ready? You can be my partner for one adventure,” he added. “This is my every ‘fan’s dream. I think.”

“A signature would be enough.” The ‘partner’ swallowed. “I don’t feel myself ready.”

“Oh, you really don’t.” The Doctor started to fling the sonic again, now in front of the helmet. “In vain some Nothing-material sticks to you, it wouldn’t be lucky if I’d open up the grid.” He turned off the device. “Maybe your voice will sound different.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, you will be hooded so I can drag you back anytime. I make a telepathic transmitter from the helmet, just think strongly about your return!”

After this, he disappeared on one of the corridors again, to appear with an oval tool in his hand. He turned it in front of Andrew, then tossed it to him.

“A magnetic signal-printer. I found an alien tool in the building that, well…“ He scratched his head. ”I blew up. This thing will rebuild it so its makers won’t notice its disappearance but it absorbs the signals and transmits to me. Maybe I can track it down. Place it on the device!”

Andrew nodded and put the signal-printer into his pocket.

The Doctor immediately appeared next to the console and flicked switches, pushed buttons and his hand rested on a handle.

“So, can we start?”

“I don’t know…”

“Geronimo!” the Doctor whispered, pulled the handle and Andrew vanished.

 

 

Andrew felt hard, cold ground under himself. He was lying again but on his stomach. He felt as if he was paralysed, his limbs didn’t reply to his brain’s call. With long trying, he succeeded to pull his arms under himself and leaned on his forearm. He blinked confusedly.

He saw a pair of red-white trainers in front of him. As he pushed himself up further, he glimpsed the inherent but jarring blue suit trousers. Two arms gripped him under his armpits and pulled him up. The Doctor opposite him really was ‘prior’. The blue suit and the brown knee-high travelling coat, plus the tie and the face gave it away: a former incarnation stood opposite him.

“Hello! I’m the Doctor! Glad to meet you!” started the other. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Andrew replied.

“Great. Hm… strange voice, not human,” the Doctor chewed upon it. “At least it isn’t, at first! Maybe…” He also got out his sonic screwdriver then, as the other Doctor predicted, he examined the boy with it. “I don’t know. Rare case,” he grimaced. “Human or not human? Which of them are you? Will you survive if I take off the helmet? Should we give it a try?”

“Erm… Well…” Andrew didn’t know how to answer.

“Irrelevant.” The Doctor waved. “What’s your name?”

“Talon,” the boy lied the first name what came to his mind.

“Nice to meet you, Talon!” The Doctor started to grin. “I need your help. Will you help? Good, then go, please, to that door!” He intensely observed his screwdriver and nodded his head to the door’s direction.

Andrew, as he walked to the door, observed the room where he’d been. Simple PVC floor, white-painted walls, blue window. Just enough light filled the small room. At one of the walls, there was a desk, filling cabinets next to it and a lamp atop it. Maybe an office, Andrew thought. There was another door, overleaf the desk. ‘ARCHIVES’, the label said.

Beyond the door, a boring corridor caught Andrew’s gaze. Opposite him, a swelting plant waited to be watered. Though some windows he could look down to an enormous concrete backyard, the light poured onto a long, fluffy carpet.

“What can you see?” asked the Doctor. “Beyond the plant, of course. Poor thing, it would deserve some water.”

“Not much,” Andrew admitted as he tried to spy through the blurred glass. “What should I see?”

“Mostly nothing. I got one or more confusingly intricate signals from this place. Maybe one of them was you. Come on, show me!” He told this to his screwdriver which lay in his palm and the Doctor held it as some kind of compass.

The sonic peeped when the Doctor turned to the door’s direction with it. The Time Lord looked up.

“Don’t watch me but beyond the door!” he instructed the boy then started pacing in the room, round and round, maybe he succeeds to tune his gadget onto the signal again.

“Doctor,” Andrew shuddered. “There’s something here!"

On the corridor behind the door, Andrew saw a statue which wasn’t there last time. At first sight, it was a woman’s figure, its palm covered its face. Its wings made resemblance to the angels which were formed by the human imagination. He knew what it was: a Weeping Angel. Did the Doctor meet them already?

“What is it?”

“Well… a statue.” Andrew drew the long-bow.

“Let me see!” the Doctor shouted and ran to the door. “Oh, what a nice statue! Watch it further, you rarely can see something this beautiful. Do not tear your gaze away from it, you can’t blink, either!” He tinkered the door’s lock with the sonic. ‘So he knows them already,’ the lad thought.

The Time Lord ran to and fro in the office for minutes and looked into the archives as well. His yell could be heard from the inside:

“Yes! This is it! It was nice, really nice! Dear Talon, stay there a bit more, I’ll be there in an instant!”

However, a thing happened which the Doctor and Andrew didn’t expect. The statue moved.

It slowly lowered its hand, its evil gaze and mouth could be seen which was opened to roar. It looked at the observing boy and, almost crawling, started to the direction of the door. Andrew stepped back, startled.

“Doctor!” he yelled. “It’s moving!”

“I told you to watch it!”

“But I am watching it!” Andrew shouted, his heart beat faster.

The Doctor arrived, running, his voyage coat floating behind him. He stopped in front of the door, slipping. He incredulously gazed at the Angel moving on the other side of the door.

“This is impossible! It can’t dodge the quantum rights! Maybe the window is too blurred?” He pointed at the glass with the screwdriver at which the glass broke into pieces but the statue didn’t freeze. “This is cheating!”

The Doctor dragged Andrew away from the door and they backed a couple of steps but did not try to run away. At least, the Doctor didn’t. Andrew wanted to but the man didn’t release his shoulder.

“Do you have any plans, Doctor?” The boy looked up to the Time Lord.

“No.” His mouth drew into a reassuring, a little arrogant smile. “But don’t worry, I always come out of this alive.”

They waited until the Angel arrived to the door and rip it open. Dust fell from the walls. The Doctor baffled Andrew behind himself and sidled to the archives’ door. Then, to Andrew’s biggest stupor, he started to have a conversation with their attacker.

“You shouldn’t be able to move,” he said, accusingly. “How can you move, after all?” He turned to Andrew. “If I tell you, run to the archives’ other end! If something is near at your hand, turn it over!”

“I vowed and the pond allowed me to.” The Angel’s voice was brazen and blunt like when a rock squeaks on a rock.

“What?” the Doctor turned back.

“They knew you come, Doctor! They watch and know you. And I waited for you. To hold you up. To stop you.” It was thinking. “To make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer?"

“Their heart would rejoice if you’d join. Theirs the creation and the death. _In statu nascendi et in aeternum_.”

“It speaks Latin, Doctor?” Andrew asked.

“Not exactly.” The Doctor raised his eyebrow. “My ship is able to translate alien languages but the language, in which it said those words, is so ancient that it would match one of the Latin’s versions in human languages. It can’t be shoved to be a spoken language.”

“They would like you to be their slave. This kind of strong slave doesn’t come to everyone,” the statue continued on its harsh voice.

“Maybe they don’t know me that much,” the Doctor snorted. “I won’t yield to anyone!”

“Then you will burn, Doctor! Flames will be your coffin, fire will be your vault!” The Angel got closer.

“Five hundred went to a flaming grave,” the Time Lord said in a monotone voice.

“What?” The boy looked at him.

“Never mind. Just a wisecrack.” The Doctor jolted back. “Shame that only the two of us is here so what I said is not true.”

“What?” Andrew repeated.

The Angel swung forward, the Doctor stepped back and pushed Andrew away.

“Now!” he shouted.

Andrew started to run as fast as he could. As he stepped across the archives’ threshold, he saw how long the room really is. The filing cabinets made labyrinth. Andrew ran. His aim was to get to the wall at the back on the shortest way. He was surprised by the huge disarray, he thought that a studio’s notes were stored in more of an order. Maybe the Doctor did this.

As he ran, he tried to fulfill the Doctor’s demand, and if he saw a tinier cabinet which he could handle, he tried to turn it over. If he found something like this, he expanded to it and it landed on the floor with a loud bang. After knocking over some storeys, he got to the chosen wall. He turned, his eyes glued to the path he came on.

The Doctor followed him, falling astern on the same path which Andrew arrived on. His coat was raggedy in several places. He jumped over the tumbled cabinets with an acrobat’s neatness and these times, his coat almost came to life behind him. He got to the wall with smashing speed, muffled the impact with his hands then turned breezily.

“So, are you okay?” He grinned. “High blood pressure, muscle weakness or shivering, cramp, breathing problems?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Andrew panted.

“Great! Then step away a little!” He got the screwdriver out from his coat pocket and turned in on. “I’ll make a rear exit.”

“But won’t gain upon us? As I know, Weeping Angels are really fast.”

“Oh, they are, extremely fast. Except this one. It somehow dodged the quantum rights. But this way, it lost the quantum rights’ advantages. It’s still deadly, though.”

And as on cue, the Angel appeared opposite them and started towards them.

“By the way, what did you do for so much time, Doctor?” Andrew still inquired.

“I slowed it down,” the asked person shrugged then continued his work. “It can be said, I laughed into the danger’s face.” He puckered up his lips. “Only, the danger doesn’t have a sense of humour.” And he set his rived coat. “But I loved it so much!”

The Doctor worked along and Andrew continued observing the Angel which came closer, malignly. It passed step by step in the filing cabinets’ forest on its slow but threatening way, not paying attention to the tumbled cabinets.

Although Andrew didn’t really consider himself to be particularly skittish, this was the third time during the day when his knees started to tremble and his ears throb. He felt his heart beating in his throat. But of course, this day wasn’t that ordinary.

He glanced back. The Doctor still hummed in front of the wall, writing concentric circles with the screwdriver.

“Come on now, come on!” he said with gritted teeth.

The Angel was just a couple of steps away when the Doctor exclaimed:

“That’s it! I’m done!”

He knocked on the wall with an elegant move, whereof on a large surface little cracks ran in every direction, crossing each other like a spider web’s strings and the wall slumped. Through the gaping hole, they could look down at the corridor’s dusty, debris-covered and fluffy carpet.

The Weeping Angel was only an arm’s length away.

“Doctor,” Andrew cawed. “We should run!”

“Then run!” The Doctor appeared on the corridor right away and started to run.

However, he stopped a couple of steps later. He couldn’t hear the crumbling wall-pieces’ sound under shoes. He turned. His new partner really didn’t follow him. Then again, the Angel’s voice clanged up.

“Doctor!” it called him on a gravy voice.

The Doctor slowly started back and his brain worked feverishly. The Angel probably caught Talon, he just couldn’t decide what it did to him. It sent him back in time to live from the time energy or it took him as a hostage to be the bait for a bigger catch? He was determined that he doesn’t accept the first version. His gaze went to and fro on the corridor then settled down on one point. The Doctor started to grin. Then, putting on the seriousness’ mask, he walked to the hole, ready in his soul, if his first theory is the true one.

He was as lucky as Talon was. As he adjudged, the boy wasn’t harmed but he could have sworn that beyond the helmet’s grid, he can have a scared expression on his face. However that face looks like.

The Angel locked one of its hands around Talon’s throat and raised its other one high, ready to hit.

“Doctor!” the rock monster repeated. “I would be sorry for letting you pass! Your partner also, I feel it, bathed in the time energy. He would be a long-lasting energy supply. But he’s nothing, compared to you! I already passed over my owners’ offer, now I step forward with one. His life for yours!”

“There will be a problem with this! You know, I don’t like, if someone threatens me. Less so, if someone threatens my partner.” He furrowed his eyebrows, creases deepening on his forehead. “I would place the haggling onto different bases instead.” He turned his back on his ‘deal-partner’ and walked out of its sight to return with a fire extinguisher. “Do you know what this is?”

The Angel kept quiet.

“This, please, an answer to the flaming grave that you offered. This isn’t more than an extinguisher. The human’s simple innovation, in case of fire. Nice, isn’t it? So, now, the quantum rights regarding to you…”

“Enough from the quibbling, Doctor!” The statue wasn’t interested in the fire extinguisher. “Say goodbye to your partner! What do you wish, on the right of the last word?” It looked at the Time Lord.

“One word?” The Doctor snorted. “I have to say goodbye in one word? And how? You know,” his face lit up, “there’s a brilliant word: supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” He didn’t finish yet but flung the extinguisher and swung it into the Angel’s face.

The Angel reeled back and Andrew dove forward. The Doctor threw away the gear, pushed the boy onto his feet and dragged Andrew after him through the hole then all along the corridor. They ran into the staircase and climbed a storey of stairs. They ran on another corridor when Andrew could get over the fright and speak.

“Will it stop the Angel?” Andrew asked when he ran, panting.

“Not really but it hurt, that’s for sure!”

“The Angels aren’t invulnerable?”

“Quantum rights are tricky things. When I stayed with it, it tore up my coat,“ the Doctor explained then sighed. “Ah, if Janis would see what happened to it! So, I found crumbs stuck to the fabric. Rock crumbs. An Angel doesn’t crumb. I presumed that I can injure or at least surprise it.”

“You presumed?”

“It worked, didn’t it? This way!” he instructed Andrew into a room.

The room was similar to the office where they met the Angel. It was totally empty except a strange object which reached up to the ceiling from the floor in one of the corners. It resembled to an hourglass, its surface was rugged and played in different colours.

The Doctor stopped in front of it and started to examine the gear.

“This was what enticed me here,” he called back to Andrew. “The screwdriver identified it in the end but the Angel surprised me. How weird,” he mused. “I parked here, rooms from this and I didn’t even notice it. Brilliant camouflage-technology,” he mused.

“And now?” Andrew inquired.

“I don’t know what it transmits but if I could catch the signals in the Time Vortex, then it’s in no way good! I turn it off!”

He searched for a point where sheathing cells touched and broke it open with the screwdriver. Dozens of crystal pipes could be seen between the two bent sheet-metals. The Doctor shook his head, disapprovingly.

“Hmm… It won’t be easy,” he chew upon it. “Maybe if… no, not good. Perhaps, if… what do you think? Nope, it isn’t good, either.” His words weren’t addressed to his partner, he only murmured to himself, the screwdriver almost stifled his voice.

Then he suddenly exclaimed.

“This can’t be true!”

“What’s the problem, Doctor?” Andrew asked.

“I can’t override it. So I’m not able to turn it off nor send the signal to another way. But it would be nice to track down where it came from!”

The signal-printer came to Andrew’s mind. He quickly prodded his pocket to see whether he still has it.

“I can do one thing…” the Time Lord sighed. “I overload it!”

He started to hum with the screwdriver again, bending to the crystal pipes. Andrew stepped on one foot after the other at a loss, thinking about where to put the signal-printer. However, he didn’t have time to render it because the Doctor finished the job. He turned to Andrew, clasped his shoulders and looked deeply into the helmet’s darkened grid.

“Listen to me, Talon! I go for my ship and park here with it. I’ll be quick but the Angel may arrive here by that time. Stay here, be brave and don’t let it go near the machine! If it knows how to turn it off… if the Angel turns it off… the overloading sequence will break. You can’t allow that, is that clear?”

“But what can I do?” Andrew was taken aback.

“Think of something!” And with that, the Doctor turned on his heels and ran away.

The seconds passed away with nerve-racking slowness since the Doctor went away. As the man stepped out of the door, Andrew placed the signal-printer onto the inside wall of one of the rived sheathing sheet. And waited. He waited the sound, known from the series, to bluster, signalling the TARDIS’ landing. But the waited sound couldn’t be heard.

However, the Weeping Angel appeared in the doorway. Its face fractured, its face was unrecognisable. Maybe because of the anger but it moved faster.

“Where is the Doctor?” it rattled.

Andrew backed to the alien device. The other Doctor promised that he watches the boy’s thoughts, Andrew only needs to think about returning home. He closed his eyes. ‘Back! Back! Back!’ he repeated inside. He opened one eye but he was still in 1973, face to face with the Angel who came closer.

Maybe it made up its mind, if it can’t catch the Doctor, it regale itself from his partner’s time energy.

And to Andrew’s biggest surprise, the whistling, screaming noise sounded. Not so far from him, just fitting, the blue police box emerged. Its door opened and the Doctor appeared. He threw a disk-like thing towards the Angel and it stuck to the Angel’s rock-body. The Angel froze.

“Temporal time-cuff. It will keep the Angel for some time,” the Doctor grinned, smugly. “Come, I’ll take you home!” he waved towards the boy.

“Thanks but I have my own carriage,” Andrew shuffled off the offered chance. “I hope.”

As he said it, he vanished, accompanied by a bright flash.

The Doctor lifted his eyebrow.

“Fantastic!” He stepped into the TARDIS and closed the door. “I said this such a long time ago!”

The box’s lamp started to blink then all of it disappeared. The energy slowly overloaded in the alien device then it gave the rein to the piled up tension in an explosion which took the Angel with it and tore it into pieces.

 

 

Andrew found himself in the TARDIS, face to face with the other Doctor. He stood in front of the computer while asserting searching parameters. A crate lay on one of the seats with cassettes and film reels in it.

“Well done, the signals already coming!” He looked at the boy. “You could take down the helmet. So, a couple of moments and…” In this exact moment, something loomed at the console’s opposite side. First a silhouette, than a body appeared from nothing. It was hugged by a strange shine. Andrew’s eyes widened, the movement to take off this helmet stopped.

The appearing creature was taller than a human. Its scaly body was covered by a grey dress which stood from sheets. Its six long fingers grabbed at a cane, its other hand rested on its belt. Its face was covered by glass bell and on its foggy surface, the creature’s eyes lit through with a violet glow. When it started to speak, its voice was like it would sound from under water.

“Nice try, Doctor!”

“Ah, a Nayad!” the Doctor whispered, walked down the stairs to stand opposite the creature. “It’s nice that you popped in!”

“Don’t waste your breath!” the Nayad said. “I just tell you that you can call us forth as the Pantheon of Discord.”

“But here you are!”

“I’m a messenger. I bring you a warning. Don’t stand in our way, anymore! _In statu nascendi et in aeternum._ ”

“You can’t bear with yourselves again, can you?” the Doctor yelled at it, but the Nayad didn’t listen, turning slowly. “You’re planning another apocalypse? And for when?” In contempt of his every shouting, the alien vanished.

“What was this, Doctor?” Andrew drew in a breath.

“A Nayad. They live in another spectrum of reality. They try to destroy our reality’s every habitant to seize the universe with their slaves. They already tried to do this at the time of the ancient Greeks, they named the Nayads. They dissipated with the nutation. Oh, and the year of 2186 will be hard… The Weeping Angel served them. The POND that it mentioned is the Nayads’ local propaganda organisation.”

“POND?”

“Promises of Nayad Domination. The transmitter in the studio planted their subconscious message into the series’ episodes: ‘Come, serve us! It will be really good for you. Be a happy servant, today!’”

“What’s in the crate?” Andrew changed the topic.

“Copies of those episodes in which the message stayed, undeletably. What I couldn’t bring with myself, I destroyed so there are some episodes you will never see. Goodbye, you can go!”

“Don’t you try to stop them?”

"I told you, no more world saving! The universe needs to take care of itself. This was the last adventure but only because the Clock forced me to do it.”

“And what about the Earth?” the boy asked as the Doctor baffled him towards the door.

He grabbed his bag and put it onto his back.

“There’re Torchwood and Sarah Jane. And UNIT. They will save you.”

“And if they can’t handle something?”

“They will solve it.”

The Doctor opened the door but Andrew recoiled at the threshold.

“Go! I homed in on a nice little cloud, I wouldn’t like if they would snatch it away from me!”

“Two more questions and I go, okay?”

“Okay,” the man huffed angrily.

“First: If you quit as saviour, what did you do in London?”

“Antony landed here and…” He shook his head. “Leave it, I was here. Second?”

“You really threw a stolen word from Mary Poppins with the extinguisher?”

“Stolen? She stole it from me when she plummeted down on the East Wind. And I stole it?” the Doctor rolled his eyes.

“Mary Poppins is an alien?”

“We made a deal. I answered, you can go!”

Andrew stepped out of the door but turned back.

“You won’t quit from the profession,” he stated.

“Really? Watch me!” The Doctor recoiled. “How do you know that?”

Andrew started to grin.   
  
"The Christmas episode is coming."

The Doctor slapped the door angrily then vanished with the TARDIS. The cold went to Andrew’s face but he started his way home, humming and he summarised inside: this was a strange day!

 

_But wait! The story doesn’t end here,_

_The Doctor will come back for him._

_In the next adventure, one more will be the stake,_

_River will be back for her Sweetie._

_So this goddess will be around,_

_And we will see some more Nayad._

_Get ready, reader because new adventures await,_

_With the Doctor and his bluest blue TARDIS!_


	2. Citadel of Religions, Part One

"Nice try, Doctor!" a strange, unearthly voice rattled.

The voice belonged to a tall creature which was covered with flakes and was hugged by an unknown brightness. With its six-fingered, webbed hand it grabbed at its cane proudly till its other hand rested on its belt, sloppily. The strange light broke on its grey dress which stood from shining sheets. Its face was covered by a foggy surfaced glass bell and the smouldering pair of eyes glowed from beneath it which observed only one person, stiffly: the man opposite it.

The man who it called the Doctor wore a drab tweed-jacket, a white shirt beneath it and his collar was a little crumpled. His trousers were kept in place by red braces. His eyes flickered with anger but at the same time unmeasurable pain and sadness burned from him. Walking down from a podium's stairs, he examined the being and in an elfin and ironic manner, threw it to it:

"Ah, a Nayad! It's nice that you popped in!"

"Don't waste your breath!" the being called Nayad bubbled. "I just tell you that you can't call us forth as the Pantheon of Discord."

"But here you are!"

The creature slowly and evilly shook its head behind the glass bell.

"I'm a messenger. I bring you a warning. Don't stand in our way anymore! _In statu nascendi et in aeternum_!"

"You can't bear with yourselves again, can you?" the Doctor yelled at it. "You're planning another apocalypse? And for when?"

"You're interested, Doctor?" The creature's eyes gave away that it grins maliciously in the fog which covered its helmet. "When your partners descend like Theron-larvae?"

In this moment, its gaze jumped from the Doctor to the boy a couple of steps away.

The boy suddenly roused.

The boy was called Andrew McAllistair, he became eighteen years old three weeks ago. He lived in London, in a neat little apartment on Russell Street with his mother and his little sister. It can be said that he was an ordinary boy from every detail, except one: almost a half-year ago he had a strange day. He lived through a not everyday adventure on the man's side who wears the name: the Doctor. However, he couldn't forget since what happened and sometimes he dreamt about them. As he did now.

Andrew lay in his bed with eyes wide open. His forehead was bead with sweat and he snatched for air, panting. He sat up and looked around the room. He brushed the sweat off with the edge of his palm. His gaze wandered over blue-printed walls, a familiar desk and cupboards, shelves and curtains then settled on the opened window. He slowly calmed down.

Andrew threw the blanket away from his legs, the scuffed up dust danced in the sharp sunlight. He wriggled out of bed. He stretched then yawned. He stirred his feet then marched to the window. He stuck out his head off the window, the morning's crispy air thrilled him a little.

The street was quiet, just the neighbour old lady's cats meowed and huffed at the sight of the sparrows, sitting on the fence. The morning traffic's noise could be heard from afar as people hurried to their work.  
Andrew stepped back from the window and closed it. His socks and underwear lay on the chair next to the bed in little piles. His mother washed them out two days ago but Andrew didn't pack them away yet. He opened his wardrobe, looked for a shirt and a pair of light trousers then dressed up unhurriedly.

When he finished dressing, Andrew stopped, unmoving because his eyes came to a halt on the family photo which stood on his desk, next to the lamp.

He watched his father's eyes who was smiling roguishly under his moustache. With his left arm, he hugged the still kid Andrew and he kept the baby Stephanie in his other arm. His wife hugged him from behind giving hima peck on his cheek. How happy they had been!

Andrew shook his head to side-track his thoughts. He didn't want to deal with them now. At the door of his room, he once more looked back to the crumpled sheets then shrugged.

"I'll make my bed later."

He hurried down to the ground floor, into the kitchen. It was silent like the living room was. No one was in the house but himself. On the cabinet, the tea still steamed although the jug was no longer full; two plates and two cups were pushed into the sink. On the table a post-it lay with Andrew's mother's handwriting.

_I took Steph to look for a dress for the concert. You'll find everything for your breakfast in the refrigerator._

_Kiss,_

_Mum_

Andrew read it then ruffled and threw out the tiny paper. The house is his, at least until they get back.

From the fridge, he took out cuts and butter, made himself some sandwiches then with the company of a cup of tea, sat down onto the sofa in the living room. He reached for the remote and turned on the telly. Some kind of talking show was on, the host was chatting about the lately occurred annular eclipse with the invited astrologist. Then they said goodbye, the signal sounded and the countdown began till the news. The blonde newsreader lady smiled nicely then started listing how many fatal accidents happened this month and how these statistics motivate experts to draw the inference.

But Andrew wasn't interested in this. He wasn't really paying attention to the newsreader's susurrus because he started thinking. On a thing he thought over lots of times but still didn't understand.

He realised a half-year ago that the hero Doctor from the telly is a real person like his time machine and his adventures. Then how can it be that no one remembers the events happened on Earth? Only the series' episodes tell about these which were revealed as created by Nayads, an alien species. If these really did happened, why aren't there any notes, reports about them? It can be that the Nayads caused this as well? They somehow remove the Doctor's trail to stay being a simple fictive figure to humans?

These questions laded the boy and he felt like that he will never get any answers. After all, one adventure with the Doctor is a one time thing, right? Anyway, why would the Doctor come back for him? He has a new partner now, Clara, furthermore, Andrew wasn't even sure that maybe he would do it once again. Last time he got into more than one risky situations: he was pushed out into the Time Vortex, travelled through Nothing, stood face to face with a moving Weeping Angel and in only the last moment, he avoided an alien device's explosion.

Andrew all at once realised that the telly is extremely loud. It didn't matter how much he pushed the button on the remote, nothing happened so he ran to the machine and turned it off. He hoped that the neighbourhood didn't hear it because there will be a tiff because of it. The neighbour woman was an especially fractious type.

Suddenly, the doorbell's little bit ear-splitting melody sounded.

Andrew looked at the mess on the living room's table then waved. If a stranger rings, he won't let them in anyway but if it's an acquaintance, then they will excuse him. Maybe it is Dave, maybe he left here something last time.

He hurried to the door phone, turned on its camera which was signalled by the tool with a chirp. After some moments, the dark screen alleviated a bluish colour and started to glow. For the boy's biggest surprise, he didn't see a face through the camera but a blazing white smile.

"Who's that?" he asked.

Andrew's eyes widened further when the cheerful grin started to bicker from the door bell and its owner's windswept hair could be seen with his childlike eyes which mirrored ancient wisdom.

"It's nice to hear your voice again, Andy!"

"Andrew!" the boy said grimly.

The Doctor stood by the door.

Andrew was thinking: what should he do? By his door, there was the one who could give an answer almost to his every question with huge probability, in connection with his dreams and the Doctor's unnoticedness. But he was sure that if he opens his door to the man then he can't squib. The man will take him for another adventure because he doesn't really visit his acquaintances for a tiffin. But if he goes with the Doctor then maybe he won't get back alive or at least healthily. What will happen to his family, then?

"Andrew?" the Doctor's voice sounded again in which worry could be heard, probably the long silence bothered him. "Is something wrong?"

The Time Lord took out his sonic screwdriver from his jacket's pocket then started to swing it before the door bell's outside tool.

"You don't have to break in, Doctor!" the boy replied back.

He felt that he'd already chosen. He'll see whether it was the right thing to do. He quickly got down his coat from the hanger, took it on and opened the door wide.

He wasn't imagining it: the Doctor stood in front of the door. The man smiled widely while he hid his omniscient tool into his pocket with a tiny movement. This time he wore a dark jacket with a black waistcoat and white shirt beneath but the bow tie happily dangled on his neck. The blue police phone box stood behind him, the TARDIS, one of its doors was open.

"Hello!" He lifted both his eyebrows playfully.

"Erm… hello!" Andrew zipped his coat more quickly. "What are you doing here?"

"Come on, we've got work to do!"

"But why? I thought our paths will be separate forever." Andrew locked the door.

"Tut!" The Time Lord waved. "Another adventure with me… Wouldn't it be my every fan's dream?"

"I think so, yes but…"

"Then no but!" The Doctor started to drag Andrew kindly towards the TARDIS which was parked opposite the house. "We can't make a lady wait!"

"Lady?" The boy puckered his forehead. "Clara's here as well?"

"Yes, yes," the Doctor spluttered. "But I thought about the TARDIS."

Then with a last movement he led the boy into the inside of the ship, stepped in after him and closed the door.

The box's characteristic, screaming, whistling voice sounded, its lamp started to glow and the TARDIS vanished from Russell Street as if she was never standing in front of the McAllistairs' house.

Andrew stood in the TARDIS with the Doctor behind his back. The gilded decoration from earlier was replaced by a silvery sheet-cover. It seemed to be more angular than it was last time. Instead of the different sized holes he could see glowing circles in a row, two per sheet. It now stood on the same level as the console, the podium was gone and the pit seemed to be much deeper. The console itself had changed as well: the six divisions stayed but instead of the incomprehensible brightness, the light was given by blue light tubes in the cylinder which reached out from the counter and gave its base. The fence which hugged all of this also had a console. The spatial elements, where the central cylinder connected to the ceiling, were interspersed with Gallifreyan symbols.

As they stepped in, the girl waiting for the Doctor jumped up from the chair which was pinched to the fence. She wore a simple, modern dress, her brown hair fluttered her shoulders. She smiled kindly to the Time Lord but she also looked at Andrew with curiosity.

"So, how do you like the new decoration?" the Doctor asked the boy.

"It's a bit Star Trek-y," the boy shrugged. "But it's good, though."

The Doctor gave him a confused look but baffled Andrew further towards his present partner. The Doctor then stopped and put both his hands onto Andrew's shoulder.

"Let me introduce you Clara Oswald! Clara, he's Andrew 'Talon' McAllistair!"

The girl, smiling, stepped to Andrew and drew her hand out for a shake. The boy squeezed Clara's right hand and shook it. A mild shudder ran through Andrew's body by the touch of her smooth skin.

"Hi! Hello!" Bboth greetings could be heard almost in unison.

"Talon?" Clara inquired. "Strange name."

"Long story!" Andrew scratched his head.

"Now that you know each other," the Doctor started as he sidestepped them, "we can get to work! Andrew, come with me!" he instructed the boy.

Andrew started after the Doctor with Clara. The Doctor looked back and knitted his brows disapprovingly.

"Clara, you don't!"

"But why?" the girl pealed.

"Because… erm… this work is for us both," the man told her, perplexedly.

"Yeah, of course!" Clara crossed her hands on her chest and puckered her forehead, waiting for an explanation. "I want a proper answer."

"You'll get later!" the Doctor allowed but waved the boy after him. "Come along, Andrew!"

"I should have thought," the girl whispered, grimly.

The Time Lord tried to do as if he didn't hear her liverish remark.

The Doctor and Andrew hurried up the stairs then they cut through some corridors. Their destination was a long, wood floored room. A burgundy colour carpet covered the middle of the room in its full length. On the room's opposite wall at least six or seven clocks ticked, placed around a painting which represented a man. The painting hung above the fireplace in which the fire still flickered. More clocks sat on the fireplace, a Time Lord cane was maintained to its side and a Cyberman-cuirass lay next to it. There was also a magenta-fabriced armchair next to the fireplace with a cutty-stool. Two rows of bookcases lined the place which filled the room completely, however, there weren't only book on the shelves.

Andrew wonderingly looked around because he knew where he was: this is the salon where the Doctor's private collection rests. He curiously spied the room for the relics which were familiar to him as well. He spotted the Fourth Doctor's scarf on the coat rack. On the shelves, he could see Liz Ten's mask, the Master's laser screwdriver, a gramophone and an Ood translation orb as well; among the readings, he became aware of things like the Book of the Weeping Angels or the Journal of Impossible Things.

The Doctor watched, smiling as his 'fan' turned round and round with amazement on his face. Andrew evidently arrived to 'heaven'.

"This is fantastic!" the boy told him when he could speak.

"Yes" The Time Lord nodded, a bit sadly. "Everything comes here what I got, borrowed but didn't give back or found and kept to myself as a memento. There are too many of them, I'll soon need a bigger room." His gaze had a distant look. "But," he changed the subject, "I would show you something."

He walked to one of the selves and crouched down. Andrew followed him. The Doctor opened the two-way door wide for the boy to be able to see what's inside the cupboard's stomach. On the lower shelf, the 'big friendly button' lay next to a strange armguard but what the Doctor wanted to show sat on the upper shelf: a blue helmet with darkened glass on the right of the silverish Eternity Clock.

"You kept it?" Andrew wondered as he saw it.

"Yes." The Doctor sighed. "We said goodbye a bit nastily last time, I hope that I apologise with this. We've met in one of my worst moments."

"Doctor, I wouldn't be able to be angry at you! I saw what happened as well as seeing you recover from your bad moment!" He started to smile. "But this is really cool!" His hand suddenly lunged forwards.

The Doctor's palm suddenly locked onto the boy's wrist.

"Don't you touch the Clock. Once was enough what I saw."

The boy shook down his grip and pulled on the armguard.

"I reached for this. I haven't seen this in the series yet..."

He started to turn it. It seemed to be very old. The harness consisted of some disks, a tight leather band secured the right attirement, clamping some kind of sheath at the same time. Onto the biggest steel sheet a curved platen was attached which resembled to an uncrossed 'A'. The Doctor reacted quickly: he picked the armguard from the boy's hand than placed it back and closed the cupboard.

"Hey!" the boy exclaimed. "It's just an innocent armguard, isn't it?"

"Innocent, you say?" the Doctor snorted. "This is really good! This would be more ironic if it would smash one of your fingers down."

"What?" Andrew mused as he stood up. "But where did it come from?"

"From one of my friend," the Doctor snorted. "I was by his side in his last hours." He shook his head. "Let's leave it. I'm interested in you!"

"Me?"

"Yes. My apology wasn't about only saying goodbye..." He got stuck in the word.

"What?" Andrew had a bad feeling about what the Doctor wanted to say.

"Look," the Doctor started again, "I ruined the lives of so much people... and maybe I ruined yours as well... or I will."

"What do you mean?"

The Doctor brought out his sonic screwdriver again and waved it in front of the boy's face a couple of times. As he looked at the little device, his gaze became much darker.

"What is it?" Andrew inquired.

"I haven't picked up on time that almost every night, you radiate some kind of... signals. Maybe this is the best phrase for this. They are similar to the ones the other screwdriver detected when you travelled in my past. I thought back then that it is only the Nothing-matter's effect. But when the TARDIS detected your signals attracted my attention to that they almost match the signals of the Nayad which polluted the series' records."

"How is that possible?" The boy started to panic. The Doctor's gaze suggested that he has a reason to.

"I don't know," the Time Lord admitted. "But it is sure that they don't propagate the submission but ask for your execution."

The boy couldn't say a word. The fear overwhelmed him. His heartbeat fastened and he started to sweat.

"E-Execution?" he stuttered.

"Yes." The man nodded.

Andrew's throat tightened.

"Presumably I wasn't the only one to pick them up..." the man continued. "Nayads wouldn't like you to stay alive for some reasons. But there's a trail and if we follow it, maybe we can get to the end of all of this. When we've met I saved you from a Pluvian chimera, remember? This species only lives on its home planet, it doesn't able to subsist on any other place. So they could only send it from there. Anyway, this was the first attempt to your execution."

"We can find out, why they want to see me dead?" the boy pressed the words out of himself.

"Maybe. I can't promise anything. I can't guarantee the answer nor your safety."

"Why did you need to tell me this?"

"I just thought it would be good if you know everything that waits for you. Can we go?"

The boy just stood in one place, he couldn't move. What he'd heard was too much for him, he couldn't bear with the thought of death. He felt that he made a bad decision when he opened the door to the Doctor. If only they've never met! Then he felt something else: hot defiance and anger from deep inside, an overwhelming desire to live. His hands clenched into fists. His nails digged bloody half-moons into his palm.

"I don't want to die," he stated acutely.

"Look, I can't promise anything," the Doctor repeated, "but the Nayads made a huge mistake right away." The Time Lord started to smile. "They made me pay attention to you! Well?"

"Geronimo!" Andrew replied.

"This was what I wanted to hear! Let's go!"

The Time Lord hurried out of the salon, Andrew followed him, running. The Doctor hurried to the TARDIS' console and the boy stopped next to Clara who watched the Doctor's actions. The man's fingers danced madly in the stacks of buttons and switches, ran to and fro around the console which was designed for six pilots. His face's unapproving expression signalled that he's not content with something. The monitor glowed eye-imparingly.

"I know that you don't like this place but we must go there. We must, understand? For me! And for his life!" He added the last sentence, whispering it.

The TARDIS shook, it seemed she tried to give voice to her displeasure regarding to the destination with more aggressive method.

"Did you know that he talks to the ship as if it's alive?" Clara whispered to Andrew.

"Yes," the boy answered quietly.

"And don't you think it's weird?"

"No."

"Then you can be a little insane too," she poked the boy in the ribs.

"Hey!"

Presumably, the Doctor succeeded because the shaking stopped. The Doctor blew out the detained air then looked at his two companions. He gave a worrying glance to Andrew then hid his features behind the calmness' mask. He neatened his tie and waved towards the door.

"We've arrived!" he stated.

"Where?" Clara asked back.

"Take a look!"

The two juveniles walked to the door in the Doctor's wake. The man opened one of the TARDIS' white-boarded doors on which a blinding light poured in.

"Welcome to the Pluvia!"

Andrew was overwhelmed by the thought of looking at the rocky ground of an alien planet through the TARDIS' door. The sun of the Pluvia shone much stronger than the Earth's and it colour was darker as well, the flying dust in the planet's atmosphere tinted its rays orange-grove. The ground was covered by colourful, mosaicly placed stones, so they presumably landed on a civilised area, the sunlight glowed joyfully on the coloured stones. The air was thicker here than on Earth so the boy had the impression as if he was walking in fog, that blocks the airways this much. He took off his jacket and threw it onto the coat-rack next to the door.  
While Andrew wasn't willing to drew out the air in dismay, until then the Doctor smilingly watched his two companions. Clara's face also mirrored curiousity and admiration, it seemed, no one can get used to alien worlds' atmosphere.

As if outside the known universe's every inhabitant could be found there, they saw that much kind of aliens, alone or gathered together into a group. The enormous crowd was accompanied by an enormous noise. A faraway bell's dull bong and an unearthly aria's pleasant voice vocalled into the dutch concert of thousands of languages. Some aliens clearly outlined from the species' colourful medley sometimes who the Doctor realised one by one: Corbins, Thanagarans, Oods, Rigelians, Sontarans, Zygons, Silurians and the planet's natives, the Wakilan'dars.

The Doctor moved first, stepping out of the spaceship's door. He turned back to see whether they follow him when the box suddenly and aggressively shook. The two juveniles fell: Andrew onto his face and Clara backwards. The coat-rack swung as well, throwing down Andrew's coat. The boy put his hands in front of him instinctively to damp the blow. The girl succeeded in catching the fence but a second vibration completely toppled her off of her feet. Andrew collected some strength into his arms in a split second, pushing himself up then throwing himself towards the door. He clenched the closed doorboard and looked back at the girl who started to rise when the other doorwing suddenly swung, almost throwing the boy out of the ship. Andrew landed onto the dusty pavement. He noticed that the Doctor sprang to the TARDIS because the door, which expelled the boy, locked. He tried to push at the door but the ship didn't want to open up for him. Clara started to slat the white boards from the inside.

"Doctor! Help me!" she shouted desperately.

The Doctor argued with his beloved ship outside.

"Open it, can you hear me?" he murmured then suddenly changed tone and stroked the blue cabindoor. "Come on, old girl! Open, please!"

But the TARDIS paid no regard to the Time Lord then her lamp flashed by a way of indication, accompanied by a quiet screech.

"Don't you dare go away!" the Doctor snapped at her. "What are you waiting for?"

Andrew stepped next to the Doctor.

"Why did she lock in only Clara?" When he saw the man's questioning look, Andrew started to explain. "She threw me out. As if she would lock her away from something..."

In this moment a voice sounded behind them which the Doctor realised with pleasure which was mixed with disbelief and reluctance.

"Hello, Sweetie!"

He rolled his eyes as he sighed tiredly.

"Maybe you weren't averse from the planet..." his whisper was addressed to the ship.

He turned around with the boy almost in unison to find themselves face to face with the owner of the voice. The woman stood with her hands on her hips, watching the Doctor with an impish smile on her face. She wore a white canvas jacket above her deeply cut-out brown blouse, an empty gun-holder hanging from her belt. Her prankful blonde curls were fastened to her head by a roughly fabricated, black leather band and in the middle of the band, a red crystal glowed dully.

"River!" the Doctor named the woman. "What are you doing here?"

"It is good to see you again as well," he said, pouting. "Let's say, I'm on a field trip." She waved towards the boy with her gaze. "Don't you want to introduce me?" She slowly pulled her gloves from her hands.

"Andrew, she's..." he fell silent for a minute, as if thinking about what to say, "Doctor River Song but I think you already know that. River, he's An..."

"Andrew McAllistair," the woman finished the sentence then shook hands with the boy.

The Doctor rolled his eyes again.

"So, she knows it as well..." At the same time, he became aware that slowly, a curious semicircle starts to form from the hundreds of creatures and they are in the centre of it.

River, still clutching his hand, smiled at Andrew.

"The Doctor told me a lot about you."

"But I didn't..." The Doctor tried to protest but River waved him down.

"Spoilers," she added mysteriously then looked at the TARDIS. "You messed with her again?"

"What?" the Doctor snorted. "I've never messed with my ship."

"Yeah, of course," Doctor Song left the subject. "Did the door stuck? I thought you've already learnt how to open her. Did you try to smack your fingers?"

This time the Doctor didn't say a word. River turned to the man.

"Doesn't matter. You'll solve it. Look, something's not right on the Pluvia. I don't know what exactly so I need your help to find it out."

The crowd observing them slowly started to spread which was defined as a bad sign by River because she quickly finished what she wanted to say.

"Come to the Church of the Sun-believers! I'll tell you the details there." Then she started to run.

The Doctor turned back to his ship to try to open the voluntarily locked door again but for his biggest relief it opened, and the ship let out Clara who was trembling with nervousness. Meanwhile Andrew watched the three lizard-like creatures which made their way through the decaying masses. He could see their armed kins through the crowd.

All of their faces were covered by a steel-sheet in different sizes on all of them and bristly sideburns hung from under the disk on two of the approaching creatures. One of them was more slim than the other two, wearing a long, white gown which almost completely masked its form. One of the other two was huskier, more muscular, its body was covered by an armour which was from a material resembling to the already observed steel-sheet, a sword and a pistol hanging from its side in a case. Its shorter, presumably younger partner's skin resembled to the one's Andrew watched before, along with its armour and equipment. It held a little box in its hand.

Andrew was brought out from staring by Clara's voice.

"It hates me!" she stated.

"Hates you?" the boy joshed. "What doesn't live, can't hate, either."

The girl boxed into Andrew's shoulder which the boy painfully stroked. Then both of them dutifully stopped next to the Doctor as the little group arrived in front of them.

"Doctor!" the slimmer lizard creature's nicely ringing, high voice sounded. "I'm glad to see you!" It lifted its hands in front of its forehead, with its palms inwards, covering each other.

The Doctor repeated the movement then waved to the youngsters to do the same. Their eyes met uncomprehendingly but fulfilled the Doctor's instruction.

"Senator Osinn'Uquin-svald," the Doctor greeted the creature as well as introduced him to his partners. "He's a member of the Wakilan'dar Supreme Council. And Vog'Lehda-kai, the leader of the Peace Guards. Pleased to meet you!"

"Not a little, Doctor!" Commander Vog's brazen voice showed that he got used to giving orders. "But I would ask you take your spaceship somewhere more outlying. I wouldn't be pleased about an incident like what happened last time you were here."

"Sure, of course," the Doctor approved. "It really wouldn't be nice." He pondered for a bit. "Okay, I leave!" He turned back from the TARDIS door for the two youngsters' surprised shout. "Oh, really! Can I leave my partners here?"

"Of course!" Senator Osinn nodded then waved towards the shorter Wakilan'dar. "The Commander's son, Xan'Thela-kai will take care of them." The boy stepped forward and opened the box. "And before you leave, please, put on these!"

The Senator pulled out three head-bands from the box which was seen by Andrew on River. The red crystals were lightless. The Doctor quickly took them from the Senator's hand, threw tow to his companions then sprang into the TARDIS. The departure indicating noise sounded and the ship was gone.

Clara and Andrew looked at each other uncomprehendingly then at the bands in their hands. The Senator nodded towards them.

"Scions!" Then he walked away with the Commander.

Andrew and Clara stayed there with the lizard creature called Xan. Andrew slowly lifted the band and span it around his forehead. With a tiny noise, the band's two ends stuck together. The red crystal started to glow.

"He just left us here!" Clara said angrily as she boxed into the air. "How can you be this calm?" She looked at Andrew's nonchalant expression.

"Let me!" Xan spoke on a friendly voice.

He stepped to the earthgirl, took the band into his clawed hands and carefully clamped onto the girl. This gem glowed up as well. Clara felt as the emotions slowly calm down in her, she didn't feel the urge to be angry at the Doctor. She looked at Xan as a question came up in her.

"What did you do to me?" But in her voice, the anger couldn't be heard which she wanted to ask with.

"Not me but the band," Xan started to explain. "If I could invite you for a walk until the Doctor returns, I will explain everything. The Theron-incubation begins now, it's worth seeing, very spectacular."

The word set Andrew thinking.

"Theron? What is a Theron? I've heard it... erm... somewhere."

Xan waved his hand to leave. He walked ahead, between the two earthlings. He had a comfortable, soothing speed. He wanted to begin what he wanted to say.

"If you allow me, I'll start with introducing my planet..."

Clara interrupted him right away.

"A moment and you can start! How should we call you? I mean, your tradition is to say your full name or there is some kind of shorter form?"

"Or core name?" Andrew added.

"Call me Xan!" the Wakilan'dar answered. "Because this is my name. The second name is my mother's: Thela. And the kai is my clan. Our society is based on clans but this is only formal nowadays."

Andrew and Clara almost didn't realised that Xan began his story-telling.

"Our species is one of the most ancient species in the universe. Our technical advancement is behind the most moderns but only with a couple of centuries. But it isn't the technology what makes us famous; it's our solidarity and our aptitude for tolerance. Pluvia is the 51st century's sacral and confessional centre, the Citadel of Religions. Every known religion lives here in peace: the Neo-Christianity from Earth, the Sun-believers, the Beast-admirers, the Universal Church of Truth, the Order of Purity, the remaining of the Cult of Skaro; or the organisations which are connected to sects, like the POND and the SLENDER. So everything that you can imagine."

"I know what POND is but what is that SLENDER?" Andrew interrupted.

"SLENDER is one of the Silence's auxiliary organisations," Xan explained.

"How stupid these abbreviations are!" Clara noted but they didn't pay attention.

"Silence?" Andrew wondered. "But they are dangerous!"

"They all are." The lizard creature started to smile under the steel sheet. "That's why everyone who arrives to this planet wears a band. We knew that condemning all weapons doesn't prevent conflicts so we invented this technology. Can you see that high tower there?" He pointed over the vast amount of different sized, coloured, styled and multiracial buildings, at a tower, standing in the mountain range. "That is the aggression-controller. It keeps contact with your head bands and stifles every aggressive thoughts. It doesn't have any other effects. It prevents fanatic believers to rush at each other."

"And if it breaks one day?"

"We hope that it won't happen. The planet is under the protection of the Shadow Proclamation. If anarchy would get loose and the Peace Guards wouldn't be able to handle the believers, then a special unit, the Proclamators would intervene. The Proclamation allows them to use any devices which they think is good. My people picked up the name Wakilan'dar after our position in the intergalactic society. It means: guards of religions. We simply used the word Pluvian earlier but the Supreme Council decided that Wakilan'dar describes our species better."

Their way went past a landscaped area. Andrew, for his biggest surprise, could see trees from Earth: oaks, maples, pines. His eyes met with Clara's, then he looked at Xan. The lizard creature willingly explained.

"I brought you to the Earth-sector," he told them, smiling. "We moved the similar religions into sectors. Most of the Earth's mythology, surprisingly, has the same basics so most of them can be found here. The park wants to serve the believers' comfort. That temple there is for the neo-Christians," he pointed at a building.

This was the highest building of the buildings around the park, it reminded the Doctor's companions to the Notre-Dame in Paris. But they couldn't look at it more closely, their escort waved to continue their way.  
Their road's next stop was a market-like area. The route went into different directions and was fenced with booths everywhere. The different specied vendors tried to make everyone pay attention for their products, outshouting each other. The products of richer vendors were advertised on shining sandwich-boards while the others needed to do with hand-written or carved boards. Xan apologised the two juveniles, saying that he needed to buy something for his father, asked them to stay there, if they want, they can look around as well but they can't wander too far.

Clara gladly used the opportunity and immediately threw herself into the crowd. Andrew hesitated a little but he left as well. A human-like, falcon wing wearing Thanagarian offered tiny gems on its stand.

"The music of the Spheres can be heard from them!" the vendor shouted, searching for potential customers. "Buy one to the lady!" he offered to a watery, dark eyed Drell who immediately took its partner away.

The boy made out the fussy Pluvian letters with pleasure. He wasn't surprised on understanding the alien writing because he knew about the TARDIS' translating function. A couple of steps away a human offered little crosses which were made from wood or metal. Andrew thought that mostly neo-Christians can be found in the circle of his customers. Opposite him a Sontaran inquired whether they make suits of sorrow in its size as well. The look-around was interrupted because someone suddenly grabbed him and started to drag him through the crowd.

He calmed down when he realised that Clara pulled him away. The girl turned to him, smiling.

"You won't believe what I've found!"

They forced their way through the crowd, dodging alien creatures. A Hoix angrily shook its fist after them because they almost overthrew it. In the end, they stopped in front of a stout, furred alien. Its trunk shook as it noticed the two earthlings who watched its stand. Its clawed hands swung to invite them closer. Clara stepped closer, smiling, and Andrew realised what made the girl this cheerful.

TARDIS-models stood on the stand and all of them resembled mysteriously to the Doctor's. Some of them were simply made from wood and painted but there were models which had glowing and screaming lamps.

"Come on!" the alien spoke. "On Pluvia, you can find things like these only at me. Look around calmly!" Greed flashed in its eyes then lifted up one of the models. "You're from Earth, aren't you? The user of this spaceship is the Lonely Traveller who saved your planet unspeakably several times."

However, the two youngsters just grinned at each other, not showing any sign of buying something. The vendor had recourse to fraud. It dived into the stand and took out a plate. The plate was full of sonic screwdrivers.

"The best tool in the known universes."

"No, thank you!" Xan's voice sounded behind the juveniles who immediately pushed them away from here. A leather packet hung next to his pistol.

"Nine out of ten Doctors offers this!" the merchant tried once more but they didn't listen to it.

"This doesn't work on Earth, either," Andrew murmured.

The vendor leaned back disappointedly into the chair behind the counter.

"If we tell the Doctor about this…" Clara smirked.

"The Doctor knows about this." The Wakilan'dar brought down her good mood. "They offer mostly religious accessories on this market with just a few exceptions. This stand isn't an exception."

They slowly left the market and went to the direction of a hill.

"It isn't big like the one on Akhaten but we were in the planet's biggest marketplace."

"So you're saying that there are Doctor-believers on Pluvia?" Clara was inquisitive about the previous topic.

"Exactly. The man who risks his own life to protect and save the known species from the dawn of time. It gave itself to make him a subject of a religion because everybody knows the stories about him: the encounter with the Beast, the legend of the stolen planets and a lot more."

"This is why your father asked him to take the TARDIS away?" Andrew asked.

"Yes. A huge chaos evolved last time when the planet took wind of the Doctor being here. That day gave a lot of work to the Peace Guards."

"By the way, the Doctor," Clara spoke. "Where is he?"

"He has work to do near the Sun-church," the lizard creature said and Andrew concluded from his mysterious smile that they know about River's investigation. "He'll be here soon."

"You're a Peace Guard as well?" the boy inquired to change the topic.

"Yes, I'm a varlet. I had only two options: this or weapon development but I don't have the skill for science."

"That's it? How so?" Clara lifted her brows.

"Well," Xan began, "females have the control on Pluvia, they are the members of the Supreme Council. They are the diplomats, ambassadors. They are responsible for the scions' nurture and education. We, males, are better at fighting so we can posturize on vineyards connected to this. No promiscuity. We're wearing our mothers' names because of their significant social role," he added.

They arrived to the square where the Xan mentioned Theron-incubation readied to begin. The middle of the grassed area was occupied by a glass bell. The bell was fenced with security net and hundreds of creatures. They could observe almost half a hundred eggs under the glass. The young Wakilan'dar felt that he needs to explain to his two partners.

"Theron is one of our planet's most common predators. It's also called chimera or mindbeast. The species on Pluvia, as we do, possess, wait a minute," he was stuck, "don't possess… this isn't the right word… have a special ability: we are able to regenerate our brain's some percent almost completely. It belongs to our evolution: our memories remain but our grey matter refreshes and its capacity grows as well. This little predator feeds with this part of our brain. When we achieve that age to be useful members of our society, we perform a ritual like this. I've already performed this. So, who come here named it mindbeast because of this habit and the name stayed on the creatures."

Andrew's stomach clenched. So a creature like this attacked him a half year ago. The Doctor was right, that being really was from here.

"Oh, it begins!" Xan exclaimed enthusiastically and made way to the two earthlings to see the event.

The eggs' shell slowly cracked under the glass bell. As the tiny cracks ran over the chalky surface, greenish slime started to flow from under them. Then the eggs' occupants appeared one by one: the Theron-larvae. Breaking the eggshell, they fell to the ground and shrilled bitterly. Then the fist-sized creatures suddenly fell silent and looked at each other with their peduncular eyes. They reminded Andrew to snails which had a couple of clawed forelegs attached. The creatures opened their mouths and Andrew could see tiny teeth. Then, within moments, they went to each other.  
Xan felt the need of explaining again.

"Now they finish their first victim. The incubation actually is about finding the most shiftfuls. Those will attend to our rituals or medical treatments."

The crowd was so occupied with the spectacular life-death fight that they didn't realise that in the 'arena' one less larvae could be counted than the cracked eggs' number. And they didn't sense that the missing Theron is slipping, moving between the viewers' legs, trying to obey to the instinct within itself: attack to survive.

Andrew suddenly felt sharp pain in his shin. He exclaimed in alarm then glancing down, he looked into the peduncular eyes of the Theron which hung onto his leg. Some people looked up for his exclamation and the clutter broke out.

Xan took his sword which hung from his side within moments and hit the little predator down from Andrew. The animal started to escape. The boy pulled up the leg of his trousers and made sure that the wound isn't deep, the Theron's teeth weren't long enough to hurt him seriously through his jeans.

"Are you okay?" Clara asked.

"How did it escape?" Xan wondered. "Wait here!" he instructed Andrew, his voice resembling mysteriously to his father's. "I look for the attendant, we need to hunt down that larvae!" He hurried away.

Andrew looked down at the ground to keep an eye on his tiny attacker but the larvae disappeared. He and Clara vainly watched, none of them could see the creature. Then the girl noticed that the being's slime line ends on a place. As if someone took it away. She looked around, maybe she sees someone sneak away with the animal but the turmoil was too big.

Xan came back with the company of one of his female kin who had a rifle.

"Where has it gone?" the attendant asked.

"I think they took it," Clara spoke.

"That's trouble," Xan stated. "Because," he started to explain, "if a Theron tastes something's blood, it finds that something, even years later."

Andrew's heart started to beat faster as he realised that not only a creature like this attacked him, but exactly this specimen. He kicked into the sand in his helpless anger. He suddenly roused.

"Xan!" he exclaimed.

"What's the problem?"

"I became angry."

The two Wakilkan'dars' eyes widened. Clara also felt as her emotions come back. Xan knew that it isn't about only a simple malfunction, he had a gut feeling about the approaching trouble. He touched his gun.

Then the chaos broke loose.


	3. Citadel of Religions, Part Two

The Theron-caused panic at the periphery of the incubator changed into bloody scuffle within moments. Creatures from different species attacked each other, strained to each other to assure the other about their religion’s seniority. They used everything for the sake of the cause: they grappled, scratched, bit.

Xan stood protectively in front of the two earthlings, on the one hand, to protect them from an accidental attacker, on the other hand, not to be swept away by fugitives. Because those believers who weren’t attracted to violence or simply feared their lives, now ran screaming, shouting, towards every point of the compass.

While the young Wakilan’dar successfully avoided a Malmooth which clattered its chelicerae nervously, using out the defensive gap, a stout, armoured Litt went for Clara. With a foamy mouth, it pinched the squeaking girl to the ground.

“Monotheist maggot!” it yelled, spluttering. “How can you call yourself a believer, if you believe in only one God?”

Andrew angrily kicked the creature but it easily slapped him back. The boy, as he tried to exile the pain from his mind, noticed how much head bands lie nearby. Most of the creatures threw them away after its effect slipped by.

The Litt lifted its paw for a punch, Clara closed her eyes in fear but the hit didn't happen. The attacker's greenish eyes rolled upwards as it fell, luckily next to the girl. A narcotic disk stuck to its back.

Xan helped the two youngsters up from the ground and the attendant put a new clip into her rifle as she explained.

"This gets over any beings' integument, it maybe wouldn't be able to pierce a Weeping Angel," she smiled then suddenly loured.

Andrew swallowed nervously. There aren't any Weeping Angels, are there? He couldn't imagine them as they go to church.

"Thank you!" Xan moaned. "Let's go, we have to leave!" he said to the Doctor's companions.

He surged with extracted sword and shoot-ready gun, Andrew and Clara following him.

"Thanks for the attempt, by the way," Clara threw to the boy, forcing a smile onto her face while she threw the head band away.

"Anytime!" Andrew replied and he took off the band as well.

The violence infested the whole of Pluvia. Wherever the lizard creature guided Andrew and Clara, they could discover trails of skirmish everywhere: injuredly lying aliens, groups which mourned their lost ones, bloodthirsty and victim-waiting fanatics. Beside Clara a Hoix fell to the ground, clutching its bleeding neck. Maybe it was the same Hoix they saw on the market. Andrew noticed a grey man who ran to and from almost losing his mind, shaking his fist and shouting.

"The Deathbringer will come for us! He will come for us!"

But Andrew also noticed that the inhabitants didn't get their name haphazardly. Almost every Wakilan'dar, male or female, changed into a religion-guard. They hid the fugitives into their houses, tried to prevent bloodshed with nice words and, if their job allowed carrying their guns, then calmed down the malevolently behaving creatures with narcotic missiles. They practically acted instinctively. Xan's pistol went off a couple of times as well, he was very good with it and didn't miss aim. The Peace Guards' squads tried to silence the suddenly way-making aggression's tokens.

Xan sighed with relief when he caught a glimpse of one of the Peace Guards' mobile command unit. His joy became bigger when he also caught a glimpse of his father on the moving base. But his cheer deflated as he saw the security measures: they equipped isometric walls. This means that only him and his kins can enter so he can't stash his proteges here. The gates' blue light suddenly hurt his eyes.

The young Wakilan'dar guided Clara and Andrew next to the door then ran in to his father and started to explain that the Doctor's partners need to be protected.

The Commander stepped out of the isometric door, with a Peace Guard behind him who clutched a strange tool. He nodded to the two earthlings.

"Zohr will calibrate the door presently. Then you can enter." Then the Commander stepped back into the base.

The boy and the girl resentfully stood against the wall, glancing at the hustling soldier or looking into the mobile base. They irritably waited while the lizard creature cut a curl from their hair with a laser scalpel to enter their DNA into the gate's database.

The turmoil inside was almost as big as the one outside. Andrew counted six or seven terminals, Peace Guards sat in front of them and browsed the incoming reports. Soldiers marched in and out, and as if one of them left with a medical equipment. The Commander walked to and fro, Xan staying behind him with a step.

"We will need the missiles!" the Commander said.

"We ran out of them," Xan stated.

"What?" Vog froze.

"There weren't any on the market but three clips. In total. All of the merchants lamented on deficiency."

"That's fifteen missiles!" the Peace Guard-leader yelled. "There are thousands of them outside!"

"And I already knocked out fifteen of them. You're very welcome!" the boy threw to him.

The Commander angrily skipped Xan, turning to his dependents.

"I allow the use of live ammunition in reasonable case!" he told his kins who immediately transmitted the command to the other bases.

The Commander turned to one of the terminals to listen to the armoured Wakilan'dar's report. By this time the gate was calibrated so the earthlings and the mechanic stepped into the unit. Andrew pressed himself to the most distant wall, Clara following him. The mechanic sat down next to them.

"Sir! Explosion at the Sun-believers' Church!" one of the soldiers reported.

Clara's eyes widened.

"The Doctor is there! We have to find him! Let's go!" she whispered to Andrew then unexpectedly ran out of the mobile camp.

Andrew wasn't fast enough; the mechanic caught and pushed him to the wall. Xan looked at him resentfully. The Commander waved to the Peace Guard.

"Zohr, bring her back! If she turns rusty," he sighed, "escort her to the Doctor and protect her!"

The soldier nodded and immediately went after the girl as he got himself a rifle.

"You stay here!" he snapped at Andrew.

"Nautialan-Dremilonian encounter, six sectors from here!" the next report stated.

"One squad from the nearest moving base, with light weapons!" the Peace Guard-leader gave the command.

"Multiple attacks! Over forty is the number of victims, severe burns." The soldier swallowed, then added. "The survivors don't remember the attack."

"The Silence? Call someone from SLENDER, calm them down! Is there any fidgetiness at the Cult of Skaro?" he asked another Wakilan'dar.

"There isn't, Commander!"

"Weird... Anyway, direct three squads there and equip one of them with protonguns!" Then he turned to the next terminal.

"Sir! A few Geth broke loose in the Veil-sector."

"For Keitha!" The Commander was taken aback. "How could they bring those damn machines through the blockade? Initiate call to the Proclamator-station!"

"There's no need, Sir!" a soldier spoke behind him. "Incoming call!"

"Switch it on!"

The reports faded on the little screen as they gave their place to a video-contact. On the screen, they could see the face of a man in his forties. The face was featureless, as it were: no injuries, no wounds. His black hair was cut short. However, what made him differ from an ordinary human were his eyes: the white of his eyes were dark and his pupil glowed red. That pair of eyes looked at Commander Vog now.

"Commander!" he greeted.

"Commander!" Vog replied. "I would have some questions for you!"

"Don't trouble yourself, Vog!" the Proclamator-commander averted.

The Wakilan'dar angrily hissed at the appellation.

"There's no need to intervene!" Vog said sullenly. "We have the situation under control."

"I don't ask for your permission, Commander," the Proclamator stated. "I just tell you that we land soon. One of our squads already closed down the periphery of the aggression-controller. We take over the control!"

While they talked, nearly two dozens of Proclamator-ships sank below the dust-layer and the clouds to land on different points of the planet. Twenty soldiers marched out from every landing-craft's metallic throat. They wore the Proclamators' grey armour and had weapons, ready for shooting.

"But..."

"That was it, Commander!" And with that, he turned off the communicator.

The screen went black. Xan watched his father, breathlessly. He knew what reaction to expect. Commander Vog chopped at his sword's handle angrily then exclaimed aloud.

"Bloody Zhak!"

"Sir!" the Peace Guard read up another report. "Sworded Headless Monks were reported from the ninth base."

"How could they bring in swords?" the Commander shouted, then took a deep breath to calm himself. "One squad after them! If they don't succeed immediately, send two more for support."

"Sir?" a soldier inquired, turning from his terminal. "If the Proclamators already here, why don't we call them in as well?"

"This is our home, we protect it!" came the reply.

The soldier nodded respectfully then turned back to his screen.

The Commander turned to Xan but the previous terminal operator's voice made him stop.

"Sir, another incoming call."

"Again from the Proclamators?" The Commander turned to him.

"No, Sir. Secret frequency."

"Switch it on!"

The reports became invisible once more as the video-contact's screen appeared. As the picture cleared, the Doctor's worried expression could be seen in front of the Commander. The broadcast was still not clear; the Doctor's movements seemed rugged. His face was covered by dust.

"Hello again, Commander!" he said in a sonorous tone. "We've noticed what happened."

"Are you okay? You and Doctor Song?"

"Perfectly."

"Where are you?"

"Near the Sun-believers' Church, in one of the tower's peripheral service tunnel. But we can't get into the control room directly from here."

 

"Then use the back entrance, Doctor!" The Commander's eyes narrowed.

"The back entrance?" The Time Lord fixed his bow tie nervously.

"You've heard me correctly. And thank Senator Osinn that I haven't break the tunnel in yet. It can be useful for us now. And be careful, the Proclamators are already there."

"Yes," The Doctor imitated a salute, then lifted his sonic screwdriver to break the connection.

"One more thing, Doctor. The girl goes towards you, maybe that would be good if you'd wait her."

"Andrew?"

"He's here."

The Doctor nodded, then the screen went black.

A soldier stepped to the Commander.

"Sir! Smoke comes from the Nursing Home. There's no sendable Peace Guards on the nearest base. We are the nearest."

The Commander quickly devoured what he'd heard, then raised his voice which the worry could be felt from.

"Xan! Take six Peace Guards with you, start saving the people! As soon as possible and needed, we'll direct others there."

He then pointed at six soldiers who threw their guns away. Two of them took laser welders; one of them took a collapsible rock-drill with him. The fourth girted the toolbox onto his partner's back. The last packed the medical equipment.

They left but Andrew stopped Xan.

"I go with you," he spoke but didn't know where he got his courage from for this. "I can be of assistance to you. I would only be under their feet here."

Xan wanted to say no at first but saw the determination in the boy's eyes so he nodded at last. He thought that maybe the earthling is in that much safety next to him as he is on the mobile base.

Andrew ran through Pluvia's streets with the seven Wakilan'dars until they arrived at the Nursing Home's magnificent but flaming building.

 

As he broke the connection, the Doctor took a deep breath. He looked at the sparkling control panel of the machine in front of him then at the empty screen again. He slipped the sonic screwdriver into the pocket of his jacket and fixed his bow tie. He heard steps.

River stepped forward from behind the corner. Dust covered her face and dress and she resentfully shook some debris from her hair. She no longer wore the head band. One sleeve of her canvas jacket was ripped; she wore a makeshift bandage from its material on her left wrist. She looked at the Doctor, then sighed.

"I only found painkillers in one of the medical box," she told him.

The Doctor stepped to the woman, then examined the injured wrist. She hissed painfully at his touch.

"Not that roughly, Sweetie!" she smiled.

The Doctor released her hand.

"Let's go, then," he said. "We have to save a planet."

And with this, he started off with a big elan, River following him. The Doctor started to explain.

"These wires probably connect the generators with the controller." He pointed at the cables, running on the wall. "Because it is a secondary service tunnel, we can't go further from here. But the generators are working and this is a good sign. We have to get into the tower!"

"Just tell me, how!" River interrupted.

"I'm on it." The man rolled his eyes. "We attack on two fronts: I get into the control room and you break into the tower and look for the direct control unit. Since the Proclamators already landed nearby, I give you the TARDIS to sneak in with that. Can you drive her?"

River nodded. But she became serious as well.

"Sneak in? With this?" she asked.

In the meantime, they arrived at the spaceship. The blue box was covered with dust as well and the Doctor lovingly cleared the 'St John Ambulance' sign.

"Excuse me," River continued, "but this huffs like a dying donkey. I can't sneak in with this."

The Doctor angrily blew out the kept-back air, then started thinking. He opened the spaceship's door, stepped in then waved to River to follow him. He went to the console, River stopping next to him. On the leather seat lay the head band which was given to the Doctor.

The Time Lord massaged his frowning forehead with his fingers.

"I will so regret this..." he sighed and pointed at one of the fasteners. "You can deflate the handbrake with this."

River started to grin, then stepped to the Doctor's place at the console. She stroked the fastener, then pulled it. A tiny click was the answer.

"Good luck!" the Doctor said as he left the TARDIS.

River locked the doors. While she smiled continually, she thought about that she will rub this under the Doctor's nose at the next given time. Maybe more than once.

The Doctor, standing in front of the TARDIS, noticed the approaching Clara and the Peace Guard who accompanied her. He can surely find a believable explanation about why does the TARDIS vanish suddenly. Replying to his thoughts, the lamp of the ship started to glow but did not give a sound this time. It slowly became invisible as it scuffed up the dust around itself. Then it vanished.

Clara recoiled from the shock, then stumblingly started forward. Her Zohr-named escort saluted the Doctor then turned back towards the mobile commander unit.

"Where did it go?" Clara asked.

"For a field trip," the Doctor shrugged.

"This is not funny," his companion told him.

"Come along, Oswald, we've got work to do!" He smited his hands together. "This doesn't sound well," he added, whispering.

"Andrew couldn't come," Clara spoke.

"Doesn't matter, he's on a good place. The Dynamic Duo will solve the situation."

"You better not try things like this." The girl knitted her eyebrows together. "And where are we going now?"

"To a place which I've never wanted to visit. Never."

 

Andrew didn't know where he is and what he's doing. Or rather, he knew it exactly but didn't understand it. He was currently standing in the Nursing Home's ground floor and he almost couldn't see anything because of the thick, acrid smoke. He lifted his forearm in front of his face more than once, maybe with that he can prevent the soot to leak in through the connections of his safety glasses. As he couldn't wear the mask which was made for the Wakilan'dars' longish jaw, one of the Peace Guards quickly hustled an air filter for him which could be placed in front of his mouth and he got glasses as well. Which became more and more smoky, whenever he rubbed it with his forearm.

He coughed loudly a couple of times as he tried to orientate in the thick smoke. Xan explained on the way here that how much the Nursing Home is important: they grew and educated here the city's every 'scions' as the lizard creatures named their descendants; they nursed the pregnant females here and helped in labours as well. Because, as it was revealed, for Andrew's biggest shock, Wakilan'dars were mammals, in spite of all of their reptilian features.

He caught a glimpse of the Peace Guard-commander at last who very expeditiously gave orders to the six subordinate lizard creatures. And the six soldiers accurately and efficiently made their work. The Nursing Home's crew and the scions already and almost completely left the flaming and crumbling building; the soldiers currently looked for relicts. Outside the Proclamators already moved cordons around the building and examined the people who got out of the flames. They baffled those who need help into medical troopers.

The earthboy still didn't get why he volunteered for this at all. He cursed the moment more than once when he nodded with approval at the Doctor's request. He found himself in the centre of events within minutes; he felt all of this as a suicide mission. He hasn't seen a fire like this before: there weren't any elements from wood in the building, yet the whole building flamed. Maybe it's about a Pluvian ore which is flammable? A suddenly ringing scream disrupted his thoughts.

A young female Wakilan'dar appeared over the storey's railing. Her face was completely uncovered, she had only a metal dome on her nape, which surprised Andrew. Until this time every lizard creature's face, who he met, was covered with Pluvian steel-made mask in much bigger extent. The boy admired the face which played in a green light and which had soot stratified on it. However, the flashing of her eyes told him about an intense, inside fire.

"Xan!" the female screamed.

The named lizard creature flinched as he heard his name. He turned towards the shout and as he noticed his kin, anxiety came over his face behind the mask and the steel sheet. He also yelled a name but Andrew didn't understand it because a pillar crick-crack collapsed next to him with some part of the storey's balcony. The boy successfully dodged away from the falling debris.

Xan waved towards him and he waved back. Then he realised that the Peace Guard wasn't interested in how he's doing. Xan ostentated that he has to hurry up to the female because he was the nearest to the stairs. He took the steps in two to get up sooner. Meanwhile on the ground floor, Xan briefed the soldiers then he also followed Andrew with the Peace Guard who wore the toolbox.

"They got stuck!" the young female huffed. "Four scions in the west wing!" she explained to the arriving Peace Guards.

The Wakilan'dar's legs sank under her and Andrew jumped to catch her. The female's simple clothes strongly scorched, the boy could smell the bitter odour through the filter.

"Get her out of here!" Xan yelled at him.

Andrew nodded and carefully started towards the stairs. In spite of her youth, the lizard creature still towered over the earthling so she could easily rely on the boy. They slowly, step by step moved down the stairs.

Meanwhile, the two Wakilan'dars searched for the mentioned building whose ceiling crashed in. Grievous weeping sounded from inside. Xan took an antigravity lifter from the toolbox and pushed it under the debris. As a big enough gap opened, he clamped the tool in the given height and the other soldier placed out some slidable metal brackets not to fall the scree onto them. Then they carefully scraped themselves through the ruins.

Andrew and the female got out of the building. A grey-armoured Proclamator immediately ran next to them and helped in the support of the lizardgirl. Another Proclamator swung a medical scanner in front of them then waved to the soldier accompanying them to baffle them towards one of the medicinal transport units.

Inside the Proclamator helped the female onto a bed, then left them there. The Wakilan'dar's breathing normalised and Andrew slowly calmed down as well, as he threw away the air filter and the glasses. He decided that he stays next to the lizard creature.

He looked around in the trooper. There were another eighteen people beyond them, mostly aliens but there was an aging human man as well. He didn't seem injured and he nervously stroked his greying goatee.

"These aren't injured," she stated.  "No one is, except for me."

A bad feeling took Andrew over, he started towards the only exit. He saw as Xan and the other Peace Guard, with two-two unconscious Wakilan'dar scions on their shoulders, get out of the Nursing Home. The other four soldiers left the building earlier.

Andrew wanted to go towards Xan but he felt the push of a heavy palm on his shoulder. The pain twinged into him as he tried to break out of the gauntlet's grip. He suddenly got rid of it but now another armoured palm snapped on his face. He fell backwards, onto the transfer unit's table. He tried to scramble to his feet with a droning head but a dark object went towards him.

A laser rifle's butt cut into his face. An intense pain engulfed his brain then the world started to go black.

 

_Only a little poem which belongs here:_

_The adventure continues in the next chapter!_


	4. Lonely God

Previously:

_The Doctor and Andrew, with Clara, together,_

_Travelled to the far future._

_Andrew here immediately, separately_

_Got into a big mischief._

_The girl with the Time Lord goes to a place_

_Which the Doctor never wanted to visit._

_River Song also tries to solve the situation,_

_Before Pluvia falls into oblivion._

Andrew slowly started to come around. He was lying. He tried to open his eyes but, because of the suddenly twinging pain, closed them again. He felt like that his right cheek swelt. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on his surroundings before he tried to blink again. He felt something soft and fluffy under himself, it could be some kind of carpet.

He could inhale clearly so his nose wasn't broken. Something suddenly started to tickle his face so he couldn't stop that, in spite of the pain, not to open his eyes. The light hurt him, which was coming from the lamps, but a larger shadow hid the clarity from him. Smooth, blonde hair's curtain streamed down, this shaded and this caressed him.

He blinked a couple of times to succeed in focusing on the hair cascade's owner. He succeeded at last, but gasped for breath: he could see his mother's well-known, friendly face in front of him. She smiled and seemed relieved. She stroked over Andrew's face with her hand, carefully.

The boy was completely confused. He sat up quickly but felt giddy. His head dinged. His mother knelt opposite him and brushed a curl from his face.

Andrew looked around and found himself in his own house. He sat at the bottom of the staircase. Everything became more and more blurred. Could he just fall down the stairs? But he was on Pluvia previously. The Doctor could have brought him back? Or he just imagined all of it? Maybe he really just tumbled down the stairs and really dreamt. No, this is not right. Something's not right.

"The Doctor!" he exclaimed, not caring whether his mother thinks him delirious. "Where's the Doctor?"

"Come on, Sweetheart," his mother told him nicely, "this is only a bruise, that's why you don't need a doctor."

Andrew was clueless, he felt that something's not right.

"Where's the Doctor?" he repeated, he was able to do only this.

"Oh, Andrew." His morther stroked over the swelt cheek. Andrew thrilled. "You fell only a couple of steps, there's no serious problem. But," she stood from next to the boy and stepped towards the mobile phone which rested on the cupboard, "if you want, I can call Doctor Foreman."

Andrew slowly staggered to his feet as well but still felt giddy. He took some steps carefully towards the living room. His legs buckled but he succeeded in catching the backrest of one of the armchair.

The telly was on and his sister, Stephanie sat opposite it, on the sofa. She seemed very excited and as Andrew took a glance at the clock, immediately understood why: Doctor Who starts presently. His sister was also as big of a fan as he was.

Andrew closed his eyes as the pain twinged into him again. As he looked up again, the Time Vortexed intro was already on. _Citadel of Religions,_ the appearing title advertised.

"This is not good, it can't be possible," the boy moaned, unbelievingly.

His legs buckled and he fell to the ground. His mother appeared next to him immediately but as she looked at him, her face seemed blurry. The contours slowly vanished and rearranged, then he could see a man's face in front of him.

 

The Doctor and Clara stood in front of a church. In front of a church whose wall was the stone-carved, sixteen metre high replica of the TARDIS’ two doors. A little gate opened on it like a tiny cat crawler. Clara, stifling her laughter but not succeeding in masking her smile, stared at the carving.

“This is the TARDIS!” she stated.

“Well, this is more than that,” the Doctor tried to correct her. “This is my…” he cleared his throat, “church.”

They stepped in and an unbelievable sight greeted them. A TARDIS statue stood at the end of the nave with a tiny altar in front of it. The walls were covered with Gallifreyan writings, they told the exploits of the Doctor. Gallifrey’s landscape was painted onto the ceiling.

“This is so alien,” Clara spoke, “and yet, it seems so earthly.”

“Just like me,” the Doctor replied.

The church was filled up by praying aliens from different species. Some of them were standing or kneeling in front of the altar and some of them huddled up in the corners, waiting the outside chaos to subside. A couple of them turned back as they heard the door’s creak and their eyes lit up from the piety’s light.

“The Doctor! The Doctor! The Doctor has come!” could be heard from the church’s several points.

The prayers slowly stood up. They made their way to the duo, presuming redemption from the newcomers. Arms reached out of the crowd to allow their owners to touch the Time Lord or his companion as if the touch would already ensure the turn of things.

“Take me with you! I’ll be a good partner of yours,” a medium high, platinum blonde earthgirl pleaded. “Please!” But her voice was absorbed by the crowd’s roar.

The Doctor slowly hacked his way through them, heading straight to the TARDIS-altar. Clara followed him while she looked right and left, delighting in the aliens. The crowd accompanied them to the altar where an alien seceded from them. The light from the church’s light-source glinted on its bald skull, its tentacles, which hung from its chin, swayed freely. It wore a black uniform and in its right hand, it held a white orb whose pipe disappeared between the tentacles.

“Welcome, Doctor!” The orb in its hand flashed with a yellow light, its rhythm orientated to the rhythm of its speech.

“Oh, an Ood!” the man exclaimed.

“Thank you for coming here in a critical moment like this!” the Ood continued.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” the Doctor started to grin. “Where’s the prelate?”

“He left the church to look for medical equipment for the wounded hiding here,” the alien replied readily.

“That’s problem! Did he tell you by any chance when he’ll be back?”

“He should have come back already,” a Shansheeth croaked from the crowd.

“That’s a bigger problem!” the Doctor muttered. “Well, we’ll solve it somehow else,” he exclaimed. “A little space, please!” This was addressed to the crowd.

The Ood respectfully bowed and drew apart from the altar and the crowd also slowly spread in the church. Clara stepped next to the Doctor.

“What are we doing here, Doctor?”

“Well, I’ve actually always known that sooner or later, I hoped more later, this place will cause a disaster. Pluvia. It isn’t a lucky thing to condense this many religions in one place. And the controller is only a machine. Someone operates it. And it can get into the wrong hands.”

“You knew that this will happen? Why didn’t you stop all of this at that time? Maybe you could have prevented it…”

“No, it isn’t that simple. I can’t stir time for my liking, as if I would cook a soup. Anyway, you should taste it, some people say my soup very tasty.” He stopped for a moment, then continued. “And I didn’t know that this will happen. I didn’t know when, either. The universe’s big, yes, but if something happens, that makes its effect felt everywhere.”

“Like when you throw a pebble into the water?” the girl asked. “The waves can be seen further away as well.”

“Not exactly but we can say that. So I drilled… bore a tunnel to the controller’s central control room.”

“You bore?”

“My believers offered their help. It would have taken a long time alone.”

“You benefitted from their faith!” Clara got at him.

“Hush! Be quiet!” the Doctor hushed her. “Yes. I know and I’m not proud of it. But I need that tunnel now. The TARDIS hides the entrance but the key is with the prelate. The key goes with the post. I have to break it up now.” He brought out the sonic, then waved towards the girl. “Now go and look around for a bit, you’d be under my feet.”

Clara turned her back furiously but her huff was absorbed by the screwdriver’s screaming sound. With her arm crossed and her face reddened from anger, she went to discover the church. She adored the painting on the ceiling for a bit but she slipped over the captions on the walls, because, for some strange reasons, they weren’t translated by the TARDIS’ program so they seemed to be simple frescos. Wherever she went, she was followed by the looks of the aliens dwelling in the church. She started to be slightly embarrassed.

“You’re so lucky!” the blonde girl shouted towards her from which Clara blushed.

At last, she entered into one of the transept’s wings to be further from the believers. A shocking scene greeted her: three metre high, full-body statues lined up next to each other, fully filling the place. Clara had her mouth hanging open.

In this moment the Ood stepped to her. The same Ood who the Doctor also talked with.

“They are the lucky ones who were accepted to be the company of the Doctor,” it explained in a dispassionate tone.

“All of them?” she asked back, marvelling.

“Yes. For example, she is,” it pointed at a woman’s statue, “who helped the Doctor liberate my people. Free Oods will be forever grateful to this noble lady.”

With this, it left Clara alone in the room.

“Doctor? Can you hear me?” the girl yelled out.

“I’m working,” the Doctor murmured then changed tone. “Yes?”

“All these people were your partners?”

“Yes.”

“Am I here somewhere as well?” The girl craned her neck.

“Not sure. That room is locked down with an intelligent lock. It knows in which moment of my life I’m in the church so the lock hides my future from me. And from everybody else as well. Of course, it always can be a little wrong. That’s why I don’t come here. I mean, to the planet. And the statues aren’t always in a good chronology, either.”

Clara sauntered to the end of the statue line. She became aware of two things: the portrayed characters’ names were carved into a little bronze plaque on every statue’s plinth and that there were distinctly numerous carvings of women. She stopped opposite one of the first statues. She could see a short-haired, innocent-faced girl in front of her.

“And how many women had been lured into your box?” she teased him, shouting.

“If you continue like this, you’ll hoarsen,” the Doctor yelled back.

“No problem. Andrew would also surely enjoy this,” Clara smiled, her anger already evaporated.

“I’m sure. He would be amazed by this,” the Doctor murmured.

The girl slowly walked away, only glancing at some of the statues. She stopped another woman’s marble analogue. She looked up at woman’s lovely face, long hair and loose gown. She tried to read up the bronze plaque.

“Lady Romanadvo.” Clara stuck. “Romanadvora.” Her second attempt ended with failure as well. “I can’t pronounce this.”

“Romanadvoratrelundar,” the Doctor replied. “Or just Romana. Old friend of mine.”

“But why Lady?”

“She’s just like me, a Time Lord. Or rather, Time Lady.”

“Yeah.” The girl nodded and stepped away.

The next statue’s curiosity was an addition. As if the little angular, dog-resembling formation was added to the woman’s leg posteriorly. _Sarah Jane Smith,_ the plaque advertised. Another was next to it: _K9._

“Sarah Jane Smith?” Clara shouted.

“Oh, Sarah,” the Doctor mused. “We met on my funeral last time,” he answered to Clara.

“I won’t ask you about it.” The girl looked at the statue once more then left.

Her next stop was one of the few man statues. His long greatcoat was knee-high and Clara could almost feel his cocky glance on herself. She bit her lip.

“Wow! And who is this Jack?” she spoke in a dim voice.

“I can’t believe it,” the Time Lord shook his head, “he’s still flirting as a statue. Clara, come on now! I’m finished.”

Whereupon the girl arrived, the Doctor already expanded the altar from its place just at the right amount for them to be able to see the tunnel’s entrance and one person fit into it. The man let Clara go first then he stepped into the tunnel.

In the tunnel, they passed supporting sticks at regular intervals and weak light seeped from the light tube which ran at the edge of the floor. The flight became more and more steep. They were going upwards.

“Doctor?” Clara opened the ball. “In the church, every companion of yours has a statue. The TARDIS also has one. Where’s yours?”

“They couldn’t be able to display my variegation,” the man shrugged while he gently huddled the girl further.

The borehole finally ran into a metallic wall-like thing. The Doctor stepped forward and waved the sonic in front of it a couple of times. The wall shook then, yielding to the man’s push, opened.

The two time adventurers found themselves in a large room. The Doctor, after a little looking-around, found what he was looking for: the control console. He started towards the console, Clara following him. When he got there, he noticed only then that there’s someone in the opposite end of the room who watches them.

Then he found out that the being doesn’t just watching them. He waited them. And the Doctor just realised that they walked into a trap.

 

 

Andrew howled in shock but a wide palm stuck to his mouth.

“Relax, kid!” the man whispered.

The boy tried to observe the man better. He had shoulder-length, dark hair and wore a thin, rakish moustache under his nose. The scientists’ intellect shone in his eyes. He slowly took his hand off from the boy’s mouth.

“Relax, everything will be alright!” he said.

“What was this?” Andrew asked.

“Memory.” The man said only this then stood up.

Andrew now observed that his interlocutor wears the Proclamators’ grey armour and there is a bag by on his side which he placed an empty syringe into. As the boy looked around, he realised that he’s still on Pluvia. He was in a room whose floor was covered by debris and dust. A burnt smell hung in the air. A corridor started out of the room and the Pluvian sun’s orange-grove light poured in through a domed gate.

There was everywhere in the room who he saw in the medical transport earlier. Most of them stared in front of them with glassy eyes.

The old man’s shirt was unbuttoned and he paddled with a necklace which a simple marble key hung from. It reminded Andrew to his own apartment key. The gaffer suddenly gripped the key, tore the necklace and threw them away.

“It’s good that you came to yourself,” a voice said next to him.

Though his face smart but Andrew turned his head to the side and caught a glimpse of the female Wakilan’dar who he brought out of the Nursing Home. She was literally in a better colour. The soot was washed down from her face so her skin seemed much brighter.

“Thank you!” the lizard creature smiled.

“You’re welcome!” Andrew nodded. “I’m Andrew.” He would instinctively offer his hand but realised that his hands were cuffed back.

“I’m Kara,” the young female replied. “Where do you know Xan from?”

“I just met him,” the boy continued the discussion. “He was very surprised when he saw you.”

“Well, yes,” Kara shrugged cheerily. “I went to the Academy with three years under him, we were good friends,” she started her tale-telling. It suddenly came to Andrew’s mind that maybe every lizard creature is this talkative. “Since he finished and became a Peace Guard, we didn’t talk. I finished my studies exactly a year ago. After the ritual, I entered employment in the Nursing Home. I love dealing with scions.” She started to smile.

Their whispering and the others’ whimper were the only noises which could be heard but the Proclamator’s rumbling bass sounded now.

“Sir, I can report excellent results,” fear rang in his voice, “eighteen out of twenty reacted as it was expected; only two subjects show negative results.” He stroked his moustache. “I think it is about a direct link. I can’t do anything with this. Yes,” he answered his commander’s question. “Yes, I’m ready! Icron quits!” And with that, he fell silent.

“What is he talking about?” Kara whispered. “He gave us something…”

“What did you see?”

“As a kid, I always listened to the legends about the Doctor,” the lizard girl tried to recall her hallucination, “my mother told me them. Somehow I tried to believe that the Doctor is only a tale but at the same time I knew that this isn’t true.”

“Have you met him already?”

“Yes,” the young female nodded. “A lot of years ago a Minotaur got to our planet somehow. Pluvia was an appealing meal for it. But the Doctor stopped it. We met when he saved my life. It wasn’t this Doctor,” she added. “Maybe younger, maybe older, I don’t know. But it was him.”

“Maybe this was what he meant by direct link,” Andrew chewed upon it. “I know him in person but I tried to tell myself that he is only a TV hero.”

“What?”

“Let’s leave it.”

Their conversation was interrupted by two arriving Proclamators. Both of them wore helmets. The Icron named saluted the one on the front but he made him not worthy of attention. Presumably he was Icron’s principal. A slim, female soldier paced next to him, galumph. The principal stopped in the middle of the room and took off his helmet. He gave it to Icron then threw his legs apart a little and clasped his hands behind his back. Everyone turned towards him in the room.

Andrew looked at his face. Simple, featureless face, short-cut hair, redly glowing eyes.

“Welcome!” he spoke solemnly.

The boy recognised the voice: he talked with Commander Vog. The leaders of the Proclamators stood opposite them.

“I’m Commander Ral Caim,” he introduced himself. “Soon, you will be put down as unfortunate war losses. However, because I’m not a beast, I think you have the right to know why you get killed. You were the subjects of an experiment in the course of which we altered your memories so you are persuaded of, at least the most of you,” he gave a flat look to Icron, “that the Doctor-named Time Lord only a malarkey. The serum is only traceable in living systems…”

“Come on!” the old man exclaimed. “My clouded minded grandfather talked about this Doctor. Everyone knows that he’s only a tale.” A couple of people nodded at his words.

“Everyone will think this,” Caim corrected him. “You were the firsts from the new world order. Maybe think about this when you die. I was glad to meet you!” He took his helmet from his dependant and put it back onto his head.

The three soldiers left the room.

“Are you crazy?” the old man yelled after him. “You sentence us to death because of a tale!”

But instead of the Commander, the Icron-named came back. He carried a strange, oval machine which he put down onto the room’s floor. He lifted up a panel on the surface of the object, typed something on the keyboard then locked the control panel back.

He picked up his helmet from the ground where it lay and put it on. Then he walked out and Ral Caim’s voice could be heard from outside as he gave orders.

“Is this a bomb?” the boy asked.

“Yes, and this isn’t a low-powered one,” Kara approved.

The Wakilan’dar gathered strength into her legs and kicked herself towards Andrew. She lay into the boy who hissed in pain. Then he felt Kara’s clawed fingers as they were fumbling around the cuffs which were secured onto his wrists.

“I’m sorry!” Kara whispered guiltily. “But we can’t let that explode. My father is a mechanic so I’m adept in war tools a wee bit.”

She succeeded in unclasping Andrew’s cuffs then instructed the boy how to deactivate hers. Andrew suddenly felt himself more alive. He remarked this to the Wakilan’dar.

“They have a narcotic function as well, they work in a similar tenet like the head bands. That’s why the others don’t try to escape.”

Kara hurried to the bomb then she also retrieved the control panel. She hit the keyboard quickly, sometimes humming thoughtfully. Meanwhile Andrew watched the entrance. The situation seemed very familiar to him; he had a déjà vu feeling. ‘If she says that she can’t overwrite it…’ he huffed to himself. But the female belied his gloomy thoughts.

“It’s almost done,” she told him.

However, Andrew’s misgiving wasn’t completely baseless. In this moment, an armour booted leg appeared in the entrance. Icron came back to check the explosive device.

Kara froze. She hit down the panel and hugged the tool. She lifted it with a defying force.

Icron warningly took a step towards them.

“Eve, come!” he yelled out to his partner and the woman was inside in a second.

“Run!” Kara shouted and started running towards the corridor.

Andrew immediately turned after her and followed her.

“Don’t let the boy escape!” he heard the woman’s helmet-dulled voice.

 

The Doctor’s brain was working quickly as he tried to find out what to do. He quickly looked the figure up and down which lodged in the shadow. The being sat on some kind of throne and wore a light-coloured toga. An object lay in his lap, his hand resting on it. His bald legs ended in claws. His hand moved and lifted the object.

He had a gun.

He pulled the trigger and the Doctor closed his eyes. He got ready to regenerate. But the well-known tingle, painful feeling held off. As he carefully peeked from under his eyelids, he saw as Clara collapsed without a sound.

“Why was this necessary?” he shouted.

The mysterious figure stood up from his seat and took a couple of steps towards the Time Lord. The Doctor’s suspicion proved true: a Wakilan’dar set the trap. He didn’t wear mask on his face, his sideburns were ruffled by the draught. He watched the Doctor continually as the Time Lord watched him.

“I only sedated her,” he spoke. His voice was elderly although he didn’t seem old.

The Doctor calmed down a little. He wanted to go towards the girl but he had to experience bitterly that he can’t move. His legs were somehow paralysed but didn’t collapse himself.

“Force field,” he whispered. “Personalised.”

“Pleased to meet you, Doctor,” the lizard creature scornfully bowed. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Like almost everyone.”

“And you are…” The Doctor tried to find out how much he’s blocked by the force cage. It seems that he can move his head.

“Teb’Sagro,” the Time Lord’s interlocutor introduced himself while he put the gun down onto a table. “I can’t say that I’m your respecter. I think you expected something like this.”

The Doctor didn’t reply.

“I’ve never really understood,” Teb’Sagro continued, “that glory which surrounds you. The Benignant Healer. The World-changing Hero,” he scoffed. “Not many nations see your true self: the Warrior and not the Hypocrite Saviour.”

“Come on, Teb,” the Doctor spoke. “Can I call you Teb? Although, I miss something from your name. Your clan, maybe? Where is it?”

“I don’t have any,” the lizard creature hissed.

“You weren’t disinherited, were you?”

“Don’t be stupid, Doctor. I don’t need a clan. In the new world order, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“New world order? Oh, you work for the Nayads, don’t you?” The man lifted one of his eyebrows.

“I work with the Nayads,” Teb corrected him, “yes. They know you.”

“If the deal comes next, don’t bother, I’ve already heard it.” The Doctor sent him a disdainful look.

“I don’t need your contempt!” the Wakilan’dar yelled. “You don’t have the right for that. You aren’t a hero, Doctor.” His voice hardened. “You’re a war-criminal, a murderer, a genocidal,” he spluttered then changed to a more human tone. “Or you don’t think like this?”

“I don’t deny my past, I never did.”

“Of course, you ran from it. But the road will run out and you’ll have nowhere to run. I make sure to be like this, this is my job. You think that the saved lives make null and void those which you took, which you sacrificed? While you who knows how much lives can live. Thirteen? Five hundred and seven? Infinite?” He fell silent.

He took a little tool from his toga’s pleats and the tool’s size was like a mobile phone’s. Buttons were on it and Teb pushed one of them down.

The Doctor was overwhelmed by a strange feeling while the force field holding him flashed with a yellow light and became visible. He suddenly felt a sting in his ribcage. His face strained from the pain. One of his hearts stopped beating. As he pushed away the feeling, another pain split into him. His other heart stopped as well.

“Imagine, Doctor,” Teb continued speaking, “how the Nayads were surprised when they caught a Shakri cube which drifted in the solar system space and next to the documents of the human genom they found a Time Lord sample as well. Yours. That’s how we can stand here now and I finish the got job. I delete you, they delete your memory.”

“Who, the Nayads?” the man moaned clumsily.

“But I won’t make the same mistake as the Silence.” Teb’Sagro didn’t pay attention to the struggling Doctor. “I don’t try to make a fix point from your death. I only make sure that you won’t have more lives when you arrive to Trenzalore.”

The Doctor wasn’t able to concentrate on the talking Wakilan’dar. As his body slowly gave itself up to the force field’s push, he realised why did his invisible crate became yellow earlier. It sucked away his regeneration energy. The Doctor’s head started to throb. He saw memories: ones which were already experienced and ones which didn’t happen yet. Lives which he can’t live down. Emotions raced through him: happiness, angst, grief, shame. It almost made him mad that he had to experience all of them at the same time.

He tried to look at Teb’Sagro. The Wakilan’dar slowly started to smile. He was sure of the Nayads’ victory.

 

The boy and the lizard girl were on the run in the building complex’s surprisingly long and diversified corridors but the four armoured boots’ clicking never stayed away behind them. Both of them expected that their escape will come to an end soon but, for their relief, they succeeded in always finding a corridor, through which they didn’t run into their pursuers.

As they left an intersection, Andrew became aware of strange noises. They were the sounds of dull steps, as if they would come from everywhere. Then he solved what he heard: the echo of their own steps. They slowed down.

“I told you to go to the left and not to the right!” Kara hissed nervously while she hugged the explosive device more tightly.

“Maybe there’s a door at the end…” Andrew spoke with hope. He could hear some kind of humming.

“If we’d go back…” Kara started.

They heard the Proclamators-caused thumping. It didn’t have a strong echo so their pursuers can be far enough from them but behind then, nonetheless. So if they turn back, they will run straight into their chasers. They don’t have another choice.

They started towards the end of the route, in the hope of finding some kind of door or passageway. Their luck didn’t leave them this time; the corridor was truly locked down by a Pluvian metal-made door. Somebody stood in front of the locking mechanism, leaning forward a bit, the humming came from them. Andrew recognised the curly-headed woman with relief.

It was River Song.

“Andrew?” The woman turned as the duo arrived, hiding her right hand behind her back. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re running,” the boy panted.

“From who?”

A reply wasn’t needed because the two soldiers arrived as well. While Andrew and Kara could barely breathe, the strain couldn’t be seen on the two armoured pursuers. The woman touched the pistol case which was strapped to her thigh and took her service weapon. The seemingly pistol-sized object immediately leapt and took up the shape of a rifle. She aimed with both of her hands, holding it confidently. She made a quick movement to be sure where to shoot if either of them would move.

“Can I help you?” River threw to her pokily while she moved her right hand almost invisibly.

“Step away from the door!” the Eve-named Proclamator instructed her on an icy voice.

Icron started to get closer to the Wakilan’dar carefully to take the bomb from her. River’s and Kara’s eyes met for a moment, then the woman, with a tiny nod, opened the lizard girl’s eyes to the gap between the two soldiers.

Kara quickly jumped and swung between the two Proclamators. Eve was so surprised by the movement that she didn’t have time for a proper aim. The laser bullet went innocently into the corridor’s stone-scooped wall and left a tiny scorching after it. Andrew winced.

Icron immediately went after the Wakilan’dar. Andrew stared unbelievingly after the leaving pursuer and pursued.

Eve lifted her rifle again, the aim pointing straight to Andrew’s forehead. The boy’s heart beat in his throat. He hates weapons, no, detests them. He’s never shot with a toy gun, let alone, with a real one. And now a real laser rifle points at him in the hand of someone who would shoot him without hesitation. He was scared, mortally frightened. He didn’t want to die.

“They need him dead,” Eve murmured and her finger moved on the trigger.

In the same moment, River’s hand swung forward as well and the humming sounded. Its source was a barrel-shaped, pen-sized object.

The laser rifle didn’t fire. The object in River’s hand started to sparkle and she dropped it quickly. Using out Eve’s astonishment, she eliminated the distance between them with two large steps. She put her hand onto the rifle’s barrel and easily took it from the soldier’s hands. Then she quickly turned it and holding it at its butt, as if grasping a racket, she swung it towards the Proclamator’s helmet. The soldier could handle the first blow but she fell after the third, the helmet landed loudly on the ground. The previously cracked plexi glass was completely broken. Andrew could look down at the unconscious woman: her lip rived and her red hair’s couple of loose curls stuck to her forehead.

River flung the rifle and picked up the still sparkling gadget from the ground. Although it was bulkier than the Doctor’s but without doubt, she held a sonic screwdriver in her hand.

“Where is that from?” Andrew asked. “It was the Doctor who…”

“Tut,” River waved while she threw it away as well. “I bought it on the market from a pushy vendor. Giving this much money for a dross like this!” She shook her head disapprovingly then turned suddenly to Andrew. “Why, will I get one from the Doctor?”

“Well… erm… so…” the boy stammered nervously.

“I think you’re looking for the word ‘spoiler’,” River started to smile.

Andrew cast his eyes down then looked up defiantly.

“We have to go after Kara!”

“We can’t, we have a more important job to do,” Doctor Song told him.

She bent down to a little leather shoulder-bag about which Andrew didn’t know that it was there. She took out a steel sheet and the same armguard which the boy saw in the Doctor’s salon. Meanwhile he tried to shook off the horror’s numbness.

“We have to save a planet,” River echoed the Doctor’s words. “And I need your help for this. Give me your hand!” Andrew lifted his right hand but River rebuked. “Not that, the other one!”

“Won’t be the Doctor angry because you took this?” the boy asked but he didn’t get a reply.

Andrew now noticed the jumble, slack bandage on River’s left hand. It seemed that she got hurt maybe during the explosion. Probably that’s why she needs help.

River clutched Andrew’s left hand and put the armguard onto it. Although it was a little loose on him, the boy felt it comfortable. The woman slipped a ring onto his finger as well then closed his hand into a fist.

“If I tell you, open your fist quickly!” She led Andrew’s hand to a reverse T-shaped opening next to the door. “This door leads to the aggression-controller’s internal structure. I couldn’t get in with the TARDIS because it’s protected by a temporal shield, probably from us, but the lines aren’t covered. I parked her a couple of corridors from here.” She turned the steel sheet. “The door is a smaller bite. My hope was in the screwdriver but it’s good that I prepared myself for a traditional burglary as well.”

She fit the small steel sheet into the T’s beam and she tried to hold it with two of her fingers to give some place to Andrew’s forearm as well.

“This key-carded solution is relatively old-fashioned,” she explained while she looked for the good position, “but this is our luck and as…” She poked the steel sheet and the lock clicked. “This is it! Now!”

Andrew stretched his fingers and a curved blade jumped out of the leather band-clamped case. The blade swept into the opening, straight under the sheet, until the lock’s depth. It stuck. Both of them waited breathlessly what will happen.

As the steam-hasps freed from the pneumatic pipes, the door started to slide and vanished in the wall. River took out the steel sheet then waved to Andrew to step away from the lock. But the blade stuck and didn’t want to move. The boy pulled his arm and the thin blade snapped. Andrew almost fell backwards. As the tension stopped, the broken end also fell out of the lock.

“The Doctor surely won’t be happy about this,” Andrew stated while he took off the armguard and gave it to River.

The woman put that and the broken piece into the shoulder-bag and put it on.

“Maybe he won’t notice it.” She stepped through the door with an impish smile.

Andrew followed her and the door slid back into its place.

 

“I think this is it!” Andrew yelled, pointing at an angular, waist-sized machine, quoting the approximate description which River gave him.

The boy was inside the aggression-controller’s tower. The architecture of the tower’s interior was carved into the mountain range, the enormous steel building’s sides were linked by bridges and the different levels by ladders. In the centre, a huge pillar sprang towards the sky and at the end of it were placed the antennas which emitted the emotion-manipulating waves.

In the past minutes he and River separately searched for the direct control panel and it seemed that Andrew found it. River quickly climbed up the ladder through which she could get near to the place where the boy stood.

“Yes, this will be it,” the woman said as she caught a glimpse of the machine which was wired to the central pillar’s side.

River stroked the counter’s surface to find the hidden key which opens and makes the control panel visible. She found it after a little search, she pushed it and the keyboard revealed itself. It wasn’t dusty, thanks to the tool‘s self-cleaning system. There were three monitors on it but only one of them worked: rows of numbers and letters ran on it.

River took a look at it then crunched her fingers and started to type.

“I’m not too experienced in this but I hope it works!” she added.

Andrew watched carefully as the woman worked, he didn’t want to disturb her. He wasn’t afraid now from that they will be attacked. The Eve-named Proclamator, it seemed, will be knocked out for a long time and her Icron-named partner chased Kara.

The boy felt bad. They were here because of him, on this planet, the Doctor wants to save his life. But he’s not doing anything to move the case forward and he risks his life in the Nursing Home. He let the Proclamators to catch him and try to delete the Doctor’s memory from his mind. The bomb was broken up by Kara, River prevented shooting him down and now she works on fixing the aggression-controller. Probably the Doctor and Clara also do something which contributes to saving the planet. He felt himself unnecessary. He wanted to do something.

“Is there a layout somewhere?” he risked a question. “About the corridor network.”

“Of course,” River nodded and turned in the second monitor on which criss-cross lines appeared. “Why?” she asked back.

“If I could make contact with Kara somehow, I could help her find a loophole or get to the TARDIS.”

“Wait a minute!” River stopped typing and took her head band from the side-bag then opened up a casing cell and started to delve between the wires, careful not to tear one.

Then she gave the band to Andrew on which two cables were reeled. Then she typed a little and waved to the boy to put it on. Andrew obeyed.

“Wakilan’dars, because of their special brain structures, are more sensitive to telepathy then other, non-telepathic species. I connected the band to one of the tower’s subsystem so you’ll be able to make contact with her. Just concentrate!”

Andrew first felt buzzing then a sharp pain. Then he found himself in a very strange state, he felt as if his brain would sink into a bowl of pudding. At least, he could describe it this way. Because River supplied it with a relatively little capacity, it detected only two Wakilan’dars’ minds. Firstly, only emotions: contentment and anger from the first, fear and defiance from the other. He knew that the second is Kara’s so he didn’t pay attention to the previous.

He connected, he imagined it like when he turns in the wireless internet. He felt as he steps through the limit of the lizard girl’s mind and a moment later they joined completely. He saw with his eyes what the young female did, he felt as she breathes.

“Kara!” he called.

“Andrew?” the token of Kara’s thoughts seemed surprised.

“I can help you escape.”

“You can’t.”

“Why?” he asked but he realised it himself.

He saw that the Proclamator stands in front of her, he felt as the female’s back touches some kind of cold, metallic surface. He knew, like Kara did, that she got to a dead end. ‘A generator,’ crossed his mind.

“Thank you!” Kara spoke as if saying farewell. “Thank you for everything!”

The Wakilan’dar girl looked down at the hugged bomb. Andrew felt the thoughts connected to it: the countdown expires.

Kara closed her eyes tightly.

“Turn it off!” Andrew yelled at River but the woman wasn’t fast enough.

The darkness fell onto Andrew; he felt a deep, painful silence. It hurt him. He felt like crying. He wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. Just crying harrowingly, maybe that chases this torturing emptiness away. This horrible feeling of loneliness.

Then it ended.

River turned off the device. Andrew stood, he didn’t come to himself yet from that the telepathic connection between them broke with violence. Then he looked at the woman and he could read sorry from her eyes.

“She was at a generator,” he said slowly, speaking was strange now. “That also exploded.”

“The console is still working,” River spoke. “And it is ready,” she pushed some more buttons, “like this. The controller is working.”

“Then what kind of generator was that?” the boy mused.

 

The Doctor’s lungs were slowly filled by air. He was gasping for oxygen in a frantic manner. His bloodstream slowly started and his body awakened. The force returned to his limbs. And he could move again.

The force field broke off. This surprised him the same like Teb’Sagro. While he tried to come to himself and was thinking about whether the unfinished process’s effect turned back, Teb stared unbelievingly at the renascent man. There was something in him, something strange. As he lifted his eyes onto the man, the lizard creature understood what it is. He now saw the warrior and not the healer. This look is given to the Doctor’s enemies who he thinks unwarrantable.

Teb started to recede towards the gun. The Doctor started after him. The man’s screwdriver was in his hands is a blink and swung it. The gun spit sparks as the sonic technology elicited its internal system.

Teb then overcame on himself and stood up. He didn’t believe in anything through all his life, now he does at last. He believes that Nayads will bring the better world. If he needs to, he dies proudly for the beings which came from the other spectrum of reality. The Doctor stopped in front of him as well.

“You fight for these, Doctor?” Teb suddenly spoke. “These creatures kill each other in the name of their religions instead of uniting below one belief! There is only one true belief. Nayads will bring the better world, why can’t you see it? Other religion doesn’t have a place in the world.”

“You’re stating lies!” the Doctor snarled at him. “You’re lying to the world and to yourself.”

“Everything I say is true,” the Nayads’ slave defended himself, “nothing else is permitted.”

“Nayads don’t have helpers,” the Time Lord explained. “They have slaves.”

The room’s air suddenly changed. An affable but bitter scent filled it which the Doctor immediately felt. He knew what it is within moments: a reality-gap opens.

One of the room’s points, opposite Teb’Sagro, started to glow and two Nayads appeared in the light orb. One of them wore a silvery armour, the Doctor recognised the latest messenger in it. The second wore a harness which was made from golden sheets. Both of them kept rods in their webbed hands. Their cloched heads turned to the Wakilan’dar, they didn’t pay attention of the Time Lord.

“It wasn’t about this, Teb’Sagro,” the golden harnessed spoke. “You caused disappointment.” A green ray broke out from its rod which hit the lizard creature and encompassed him.

As the green light evaporated, Teb fell to the ground. He was still alive but his belief collapsed.

“You won again, Doctor,” the messenger Nayad howled, turning to the man, “I admit. But it would be better if you’d do your own things. Not to make your partners regret it. You won’t have that luck again what you did at the Cascade. _In statu nascendi et in aeternum._ ”

The radiance slowly dispersed, the Nayads were gone. The Doctor stepped to the Wakilan’dar and crouched opposite him. Teb’s glassy eyes turned to the man.

“There are no losers in the Creation, only me,” he whimpered.

“Come on, it’s nothing,” the Doctor told him nicely. “You’ll live it down.”

“But I can still finish my work.” Teb’s eyes suddenly flashed and he pushed a button on the switch which was still in his hand. “Say goodbye to your beloved Earth!”

“What have you done?” the man yelled at him but the lizard creature didn’t answer.

The Doctor stood up and started towards the exit. He stepped to Clara and took her into his arms. However, before he could leave the room, he came to a halt at the Wakilandar’s faint voice.

“You could have been a god, Doctor! The god of the new world.”

“I don’t want to be a god,” the Time Lord spoke above his shoulder, “that is a lone thing to do.”

With that, he stepped into the tunnel, holding the girl gently, to leave everything that happened in this room behind.

 

River and Andrew stood next to the TARDIS, opposite Commander Vog. Earlier, the woman, with the help of the head band, informed the Peace Guard’s leader about that the tower is operable again. The Commander receipted and told her that the war scientists worked out a bullet which has the effect of the band’s crystals. Currently, they’re soothing the passing chaos with this.

River also shared Andrew’s suspicion with the Commander, according to which the Proclamators are connected to the events with more strands. Andrew thinks that the outbreak of the anarchy only served to test the memory-amending compound. Vog gave out a warrant of arrest against the Proclamators.

The Doctor joined them later on after lying Clara down in one of the TARDIS’ rooms. Then he shared his experience with River and Andrew. It seemed, Teb’Sagro and Ral Caim could work together. Commander Vog confirmed that in the previous years the Proclamators’ complete crew was replaced by Zhak soldiers. The chaos had two purposes: the Proclamators’ leader could test the serum and the Wakilan’dar could set a trap for the Doctor. They only didn’t realise yet that what was Teb’s last threat.

A Peace Guard arrived to them and stopped in front of Commander Vog.

“Sir, we’ve found something!”

 

Xan just returned from the headquarters of the Cult of Skaro with the three squads which were commanded there earlier. In the church, they found only a couple of Daleks with shelled armours. Someone killed them way before the outbreak of the chaos.

They were heading towards the base when Xan noticed a Proclamator-detachment, with the commander prefix-wearing armoured being ahead of it. He waved to the Peace Guards who clipped the ball cartridge into their weapons then they started with apace to compass the grey-armoured soldiers. The Proclamators noticed them as well, forming a circle quickly, their rifles, like a hedgehog’s spikes, stared outside. The Wakilan’dars surrounded them. Both teams waited what the other would do.

The Peace Guard-leader’s son targeted Commander Ral Caim with his rifle. The Commander did an unexpected thing: he took off his helmet and threw it in front of the lizard creature. His red eyes fixed on the boy and disdain was reflected on his face.

“Come on, boy,” he spoke on a demure voice, “what will you do? Shoot me?”

“I should do that. The madness would end with your death.”

“But you don’t do it!” The commander’s voice hardened. “You aren’t soldiers, you’re only pretending to be. A Zhak is a real warrior who fights instinctively.”

“You don’t have to be tell me off, Commander, I know what Zhaks are like. You are arrested because of your crimes against Pluvia.”

“You can’t arrest me.” Caim lifted his hand to give a sign to his soldiers for the fire.

Xan shot without thinking; the Commander put his hand to his chest and fell to his knees. Blood swept through the armour’s cracks. He spit blood as well. He could look up to his killer once then spread on the ground. He died.

The Proclamator soldiers measured their numerical disadvantages, not to mention the Peace Guard-had proton guns’ devastating power and they lowered their guns instead. Xan was right, the Commander was the soul of all of this, he represented the fighting spirit.

The Peace Guards drove the Proclamators away.

 

Later on, the Doctor, Andrew, River and the Peace Guard’s few soldiers stood next to a missile. It could probably be installed during the outbreak of the “religion war”. The Peace Guards could break up its systems which also stood up to the Doctor’s sonic device. They only realised the missile’s content and destination. It contained the gaseous form of the serum used by the Proclamators and the impact’s place was the Earth.

“How can they send a missile to Earth from here?” Andrew asked from the Doctor.

“I don’t know,” the man admitted. “But we’ll find that out soon.”

The countdown slowly expired, the missile started. But it didn’t shoot towards the sky as Andrew always sees it on telly. It simply vanished with a flash.

The Doctor watched the place with interest where the missile was earlier. He sniffed the air then stretched out his tongue and quickly pulled it back.

“Vortex propulsion,” he said. “Marvellous! Except its destination. Let’s go!” he grabbed Andrew’s arm and they started to run.

River followed them.

 

Andrew was already in the spaceship but the Doctor stopped in the door to say goodbye to River Song.

“And now, what will you do?” he asked.

“You know me, I always find some adventure,” the woman smiled. “I heard on the streets that a certain Father Octavian organises an interesting expedition. It sounds good! Maybe I’ll jump in to take a look at it.”

The Doctor started to smile as well.

“Do that!” With that, he jumped into the TARDIS and swung the door shut.

He pulled a handle, twisted a switch then stared at the monitor. He tried to stand onto the vortex trail which was left by the missile. As the sensors caught the Vortex, he exclaimed and started the spaceship.

River watched from outside as the TARDIS, screaming and huffing again, vanishes. She wanted to go what a female voice sounded behind her.

“Doctor Song?”

“Yes?” As River turned, she found herself face to face with Senator Osinn. Her eyes were wet.

“They said that you know what happened to my daughter, Kara.”

River swallowed, she wasn’t good in conversations like this.

“She was a hero, she saved the life of a good man.”

 

Andrew watched from the chair, which was fixed to the rail, as the Doctor tries to stabilise the TARDIS. She shook from time to time but willingly followed the missile. Then the Time Lord exclaimed.

“And another path!” He set the sensors onto it as well but gave it up almost immediately. “Arriving to December 21, 2012, planet Earth, London.”

“That was the day we met,” Andrew noticed.

“Yes. I think, the chimera travels in this cabin, the one which brought us together.” He grinned at the boy.

About five minutes later, the spaceship landed.

“1908, Tunguska,” the Doctor said. “This explains a lot of things.”

He disappeared in one of the corridors then returned in a red spacesuit to which a yellow helmet connected with a black tube. He put it on and it became fixed with a hiss. As the internal lights turned on, a strange shadow sat onto the Doctor’s face.

“I go out now,” he explained, “you stay here. I don’t know what kind of effect would it have on you.”

The Doctor spent half an hour outside then came back, got out of the spacesuit and started the TARDIS without a word. He decided that he takes Andrew home.

 

As the ship landed, he stopped in front of the boy who turned to him with interest.

“Clara sleeps for a long time,” he said.

“Yes, they said that a man can be really knocked out by this stuff,” Andrew approved. “What did you get to know?”

“Comparing it with what you said,” the Doctor started to explain, “we can talk about a memory-amending chemical. As it lashed in, the mechanic started to pump it immediately. Not only the carrier’s propulsion worked with vortex technology but it was the Time Vortex itself. At least, in a little form. So it disperses the gas on Earth not only now but in every time.”

“A rift will be here, like the one in Cardiff?”

“I told you that it isn’t like the Time Vortex. It’s a brilliant device. Commander Caim could probably get the base of it from the Nayads. In my opinion, and it is only guess, the chimera was the experimental rabbit. A very ugly one.” He puckered up his lips.

“So this thing is responsible for that no one remembers you,” the boy stated, “or your actions. Or anything what is connected to you.”

“Exactly,” the Doctor poked the air. “Maybe it’s better like this, there are lots of things to forget.”

“Then why is the show needed?”

“This is really obvious. If the reality starts to dawn for someone, because, let’s say, the effect is not a hundred percent, what do they think where could they see it? On the telly, yes, you guessed right. It’s easier to fill the cracks in the memory like this.”

“But I remember you, and your partners as well. The Icron-named guy explained this as a ‘direct link’. On this, he meant that we know you personally?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. There are people who made direct contact with alien things. Actually, I have no idea, I don’t know the Nayad technology enough.”

“And when will the oblivescence start?”

“It remembers a little to the natural ability of the Silence,” the man pointed out. “As you don’t watch, you don’t remember. Simple.”

“But I don’t remember the earlier things, from before I met you.”

“You won’t, I won’t resolve the effect retrospectively. It’s time for you to go home!” The Doctor made the earlier tumbled coat rack stand and picked up Andrew’s jacket from the ground. “I’m sorry that we didn’t get to know anything about the signals.”

“Wouldn’t you be able to turn it off? Or delete it?”

“Unfortunately no, this is more intractable than the show’s. But,” he stepped to the six-part counter, a hidden drawer opened and took out a mobile phone then threw it to Andrew, “here this is. I’m on the speed dial. If there’s a problem, call.”

Andrew walked out of the TARDIS while he took his coat from the Time Lord. For his biggest surprise, they were in the living room of the apartment on Russell Street.

The Doctor looked out from behind the door board and started to grin.

“I couldn’t have thought that I fit in here. Wow, how precisely could I park!”

Andrew turned to look into the Doctor who was leaning to the door. He smiled continually.

“So, this is it,” Andrew said. “For now.”

“Before I go, I have two questions now, just to be equals. You know that I lived through quite a few memories of mine nowadays. So: don’t you have a pretty little silver fob watch, by any chance? You know, an old-fashioned one. Because last time, when I thought about someone that he’s my fan, I saw myself.”

“You seriously think now that…” The boy laughed out loud. “No, I don’t have any,” he shook his head.

“You know, it’s comforting, don’t feel offended. It’s not as if I’d have a problem with your body but I take younger and younger shapes nowadays and I was a little afraid of where this can deteriorate.” The grin froze from his face as he got ready to the ask of the second question. “Seriously, though: what do you know about Clara?”

“What?”

“You saw everything, you could see a thing which I overlooked. Who can she be?”

“Spoiler.” that was all Andrew said.

“I knew that River will have a bad effect on you,” the Doctor shook his head. “But you’re right; I can’t stir into my timeline, neither like this. Here, I have a time machine and I can still wait its time like a normal human. It passes so bloody slowly.”

In this moment the lock rustled and before they could react, a fifteen-year old girl’s lovely face appeared at the door. She held bags in one of her hands. The Doctor’s and Andrew’s gaze turned towards her.

“Andrew, how many times did we tell you that don’t use the key to lock the door if…” Her words got stuck as she caught a glimpse of the blue police box.

“Is this a direct link?” the boy looked at the Doctor.

“I think this is.” The man jumped through the door, into the TARDIS. “I trust you with this one.”

The box vanished, screaming, the alien wind riffled Andrew’s hair and his sister’s blonde curls. Their mother’s voice sounded from outside.

“Please, Steph, don’t stand in the way! Tell your brother to help me instead!”

Andrew lifted his index finger to his mouth, signalling to Stephanie, not to mention what she saw. He sank the mobile phone into his pocket.

“I’m coming, Mum!” the boy shouted. “I promise that I’ll explain everything,” he whispered to his sister.

He ran out the door as Steph gave way to him and hugged his mother. He was home again, truly home. He knew that his joint story with the Doctor didn’t end but he wasn’t interested in that now.

He arrived home.

 

_The phone is ringing, the Doctor’s on the way_

_To save Andrew and also save the day._

_Then they travelled, now back in time,_

_And ran into a horrible fight._

_The blue box lands in the bloody chaos,_

_Here the two time travellers have to be heroes._

_As it’s usual, they also get into trouble,_

_But maybe they’ll be rescued by a band of brothers._


	5. Doctor Mini - Just Like His Ancestors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minis don't replace the next chapter, only continue the previous chapter's events.

1476, Florence.

An amazing Italian city, Toscana region’s capital and cultural centre. It is called the cradle of renaissance because it did a lot to reborn after the dark ages and spread this new philosophy. Thanks to the city-leading Medici family’s beneficent support, Florence’s artists were very famous.

But something hid behind the mask of wealth. Something dark. The outstanding position of the Medicis wasn’t looked on with favour. The people hatched an evil plot to dispossess the that time leading Lorenzo de Medici, his helpers and clients.

One of this intrigues found its victim in the man who stood dreamlessly and mused on his life in one of the scarce cells of the prison tower on the Piazza della Signoria. He was forty years old; his crinkle-slashed face was framed by his shoulder-length brown hair. His delicate, Merino wool-loomed clothes were torn and dirty, his catchers didn’t take trouble over taking them off of him before they started to torture him. Then they left his clothes on him.

His deeply sitting, wise eyes forked to and fro but he couldn’t decide himself whether he’s looking for a way out or he only assesses the territory from habit.

Until this time, he watched his prison’s door, now he turned to look out through the barred window.  He saw as the moon slowly rose on the horizon and leaves Florence’s roofs under itself.

When they caught him, they caught his two sons as well. He could almost see in front of him as in another cell Petrucchio, the younger son, sleeps extended on the straw-hinted floor. Federico, the older probably sits leaning to the wall, fretting and cursing God. He knew what awaits them, his little brother wasn’t old enough to understand.

But he had a third son, the medial. He was still a fugitive. The man very worried about him. As much as he did so about his wife, Maria and their daughter, Claudia. He hoped that they got to safety. They only wanted to finish the family’s male members off, maybe they forget the girls, he prayed inside.

He groped his left forearm. He felt the rough, cold metal under his cloth.

Then he heard noises. As a shoe scratches the stone while it erodes tiny crumbs. He knew that his son is coming: the boy climbs up on the tower’s side as he learnt this long ago from his brother who the man taught. The man himself consummated specimens like this numbers of times.

He jumped to the window, his left palm grabbed one of the bars. His calculation worked, his son’s young, worried face appeared.

“Ezio!” he shouted while he stuck his right hand through the bars to stroke the boy’s face.

“Father! What’s happened?” he asked with complete confusion in his eyes.

“Took a bit of beating, but I’m alright. What of your mother and sister?”

“Safe now.”

“Annetta took them?”

“Yes… Wait. You knew this would happen?!”

“Not the way it did… and not this soon. It doesn’t matter now.” He knew that he couldn’t keep a cool head. His son can see how big the trouble is.

“What do you mean? Explain!”

“There’s no time.” He shook his head. “Listen closely: Return to the house. In my office is a hidden door. Use your talent to find it! Beyond lies a chest. Take everything you find inside. Among the contents is a letter – and with it some documents. I need you to take these documents to Messer Uberto, he can prove our innocence. He was with me in the office this morning. Did you understand?”

“Yes. Now please - tell me what’s happening! Are the Pazzi behind this?”

Suddenly strange noises hit his ears. They were far but neared towards his cell.

“I can’t.” He softened his voice. “Go Ezio! Go now!”

He looked behind his back to see who can near. They didn’t arrive here so he turned back. But his son’s face was already gone.

He quickly stepped away from the window not to make the accidentally approaching guards pay attention to it. He wished good luck to his son inside. As his forking thought weren’t occupied by the boy, he found something familiar in the noises. A whistling humming. He already heard this somewhere, a very long time ago. Years ago, in Rome.

A man used an object which gave a similar sound. He thought back then that the object can be one of those relics which are connected to those who were walking before us by the codex sheets of his grandfather’s, Ilario’s.

The man who used it called himself the Doctor. He didn’t know what kind of doctor, his name was this much. At least he didn’t say more than this about himself. But he didn’t pump it, he knew that a name’s knowledge can be dangerous. The man saved his life that day.

“Doctor, is that you?” He risked a careful shout.

“Of course, it’s me, who did you wait?” The reply came.

For some reasons, his voice was strange, younger. Maybe only the echo makes it that way, he mused. After all, he hadn’t seen an object like this with someone else, so by the right of its sound it was really the Doctor who came here.

The man appeared soon after but it wasn’t the man he remembered. The man’s tall, slender figure, brushy tuft and sharp chin didn’t resemble at all to that Doctor who he knew. The similarity was in both of them that they wore unusual clothes, not contemporary ones. And that weird neckwear!

The man tried to open the cell door’s lock and he could observe the object in his hand. It wasn’t the same, either, maybe two types of it exists. But they gave the same humming so their technology is the same. Maybe an impostor? They want to get something out of him like this? He discarded the idea straight away, the newcomer’s irradiance recalled the Doctor’s. It didn’t only recall it, it was the same.

“Doctor, is that you?” he asked again.

“Of course, who else would I be? Maybe I look someone else?” The question was only rhetorical, at least he thought that he meant by one.

Then he slowly realised the truth. As he left everything to his son, maybe the Doctor did the same. It would explain why he looks so different. He could also inherit the name.

“I’m sorry for your father!” he spoke.

“My father?” The man’s smile faltered. “Oh, yes, my father. Unfortunate thing.” He sighed, looking down. “A brick fell onto his head. But he died happily, there’s a worse passing than this.” He finished his job and opened the door. “Come on, I set you free!” he offered his hand.

But he just stood in one place, proudly.

“No, Doctor. I won’t escape. In my whole life, I searched the truth, I lean on it now as I always did. My son will save us. How did you know that you had to come here?”

“Only a few people are able to send a message to a psychic paper,” he explained. “You’re one of them. I thought that the place and the date came from you.”

“You thought it wrong. I know that my son will succeed.”

“Come on, don’t be silly. You can go far away from here, along with your son.”

“I see that your father’s wise didn’t stick to you,” he said, pouting. “He would see my point.”

“Of course I see it but your life is at stake.”

“I know and my family’s. But I don’t hide from the law. Please, go! Before they find you.”

The Doctor took a look at him then he closed the barred door again. But before he left, he quickly spoke after him.

“Wait!” He stepped to the bar and pulled up the left sleeve of his cloth. “The soldiers didn’t notice it. They’re ever more nonchalant.” There was an arm guard on his forearm, he started to buckle it downwards. “Pass this to my son, he will need it. Please, do this for me!” With that, he reached the arm guard through the bar.

The Doctor looked at him then took it from his hand. He nodded towards him then left. He heard as, with the help of the little object, the Doctor locks the doors. Then everything fell silent.

He sat into a corner and looked out of the window. He watched the moon which slowly left his view. He could do only this. The morning will judge.

 

“So you do what he asked you to?” Clara asked, standing in front of the Doctor. She still wiped the sedating bullet’s effect from her eyes.

“Yes,” the Time Lord nodded.

He looked down at the arm guard in his hand. When he went for it into the salon, more than the half of the inside blade was broken down. He didn’t know what happened to it.

He stepped out of the TARDIS’ door and found himself in his acquaintance’s mansion, in its study. He was lucky; he was there the same night on which he conducted the discussion with him. He rarely lands this exactly, not to mention the parking.  Arriving twice inside is a very nice achievement.

He noticed a painting on the wall opposite and the picture portrayed an old castle. He found it strange, so he pointed at it with the sonic. He thought it right; he found some kind of mechanism behind it. He turned the screwdriver on, the green crystal flashed, the wall stirred. It started to slip slowly to the side. He stepped into the unfolding premise.

It was a tiny room, inside with a huge chest, a table and a wood puppet on which a white-red, hooked dress rested. He stepped to the chest, opened it and put the arm guard and the broken blade piece onto the clamped documents which were lying inside.

He quickly sneaked out of the room and locked the secret door back with the screwdriver. He jumped into the TARDIS and the box soon vanished. The boy couldn’t see it who ran into the deranged house, distraught.

“And who will repair it?” Clara elbowed the fence.

“I heard that Leonardo is a good friend of the family. He’s surely adept in repair it, he’s a great skull.”

“You surely understood each other,” the girl started to smile.

“Oh, no. I’ve never met him. Maybe one day. So, where should we go now?”

“I don’t know. The Victorian London always interested me, I’ve no idea why. It’s such a cool era.”

The Doctor stifled a smile.

“But I’d go home before that,” his companion continued, “it was too much at once.”

“Alright, then home!” the Doctor agreed then started to feed the destination into the TARDIS’ system.

“Who was he, by the way?” Clara asked. “I mean your friend who you talked about.”

“Giovanni Auditore. And just like his ancestors, he was also an Assassin.”


	6. Doctor Mini - The Big Discussion

I met him half a year ago. He calls himself the Doctor and he saved my life. He wanted to send me home but then he realised that he needs me so he sent me back in time to meet one of his previous incarnations. Together, we neutralised an alien device. Then he brought me home.

Yesterday, he came for me again. He told me that my life is in danger, the Nayads, who we met on our previous adventure, want my death. They are from the reality’s another spectrum and they want to take our place in this spectrum. And they consider me so important that they ordered my execution. It is possible that I will avert their victory. I will lead the resistants’ army as an adult…

 

“Don’t dramatise this much!” his sister, Stephanie, scolded Andrew. “The end of it is from Terminator, anyway.”

The boy and his sister were in Andrew’s room. Ever since the sight of the TARDIS greeted the girl the day before, Steph eagerly awaited Andrew to give her an explanation. The boy was right, that her seeing the Doctor for a moment rated to be a direct link. He was glad that her mother had work outdoors, so he could talk easily to his sibling.

Andrew currently sat in a chair, Stephanie opposite him, resting cross-legged on the bed. While the girl waited her brother’s reply, took the light purple hair band from her blonde hair to set her curls into order again. As she finished and no curls interfered with her field of vision, took a look at Andrew and he sighed.

“Alright!” the boy snivelled. “I told you that I don’t really have the mood for this.”

“You promised, remember? You promised that you’ll tell me everything, word by word.”

“Steph!”

“Oh, don’t whine! If the situation would be the opposite, I,” she emphasised this, “would tell you everything. Everything. It’s a good question, though, why did he pick you up exactly? I would be a hundred times better companion than you. A hundred times.”

“Okay, that’s enough!”

“Come on! You’re adventuring pell-mell and I’m cleaning. That’s not fair!”

“Silence! Let’s hurry instead!” the boy said, wryly. “The Doctor took me to an alien world, to Pluvia. Unbelievable, I can’t describe what an experience was standing there!” Andrew started to rhapsodise, surprising himself as well. “Everything was so different: the sunshine, the air, everything! Clara was also there.” He fell silent.

“Is she a pretty girl?”

“Yes,” Andrew sighed.

“It would be helpful if you’d slowly get a girlfriend,” his sister bantered. “Mum started to worry.”

“Leave me!”

“Okay,” Steph lifted her hands in defence. “But you could have a go with her…” she added.

“Well, the planet was full of aliens. All of it was like… ah, I can’t put it into words. Never mind. On the planet, next to each other lived every religion which evolved by that time in the universe. That was the reason why those lots of species were there, everyone was a believer. Imagine, with a little head band like this,” he tried to show its size, “they controlled their aggression. I got one as well.”

“Will you show me?” the girl’s green eyes flashed up. She became more and more curious.

“I don’t have it,” Andrew spoke quietly. “I threw it away when we escaped.”

“You escaped?”

“Yes. When did you see a Doctor Who episode where nothing bad happened?”

“Well…”

“You see? The controlling stuff was broken so they lived out their violent aptitudes profusely.” He pulled up his trouser leg to show the bite mark which already started to heal. “That was the time I got this.”

“Wow!” Steph wondered. “Is this from an alien?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you afraid that you caught some kind of alien bacillus?”

“I hope I didn’t.” He pulled his trouser leg down. “A Xan-named Wakilan’dar took care of us. They are large lizards who walk on two legs. They are the inhabitants of the planet, their name on their language means the guards of religions. Actually, his name was longer but we just called him like that. His father was the Peace Guards’, the local law enforcement’s leader. We were in a moving camp as well; I barely had time to observe because the events sped up.”

“How?”

“Clara ran away to look for the Doctor. Oh, yes, the Doctor went to help River Song investigate the cause of the chaos.”

“River Song was there as well? No way!”

“Yes. And I found myself in the Nursing Home. It was a place like the school here and the maternity ward together. There, I saved one of Xan’s acquaintances, Kara. Then the Proclamators caught us.”

“Procla… what?”

“Proclamators. The Shadow Proclamation ordered them for the security of the planet. But they became bad guys during this and the main bad guy was their commander, Ral Caim. The guy was frightening, his eyes glowed redly. Redly! Ah, the cold still shakes me when I think about him.”

“What you haven’t seen!” Stephanie got down from the bed and started towards the door. “I became thirsty. Can I get you something?”

“No, thanks!”

Andrew waited quietly until his sister came back with a mug of tea in her hand. He was thinking until then. It didn’t come to his mind until this time that the tale-telling about the things he lived through will upset him this much. Maybe he’ll leave Kara’s death out. It wasn’t nice back then and it wouldn’t be, either now.

However it’s as if he’d hear worry in his sibling’s voice. Is this possible? The girl is currently in the age that he doesn’t show any other emotions than defiance towards Andrew as far as possible. She always pokes and pesters him. Maybe she’s able to worry about him?

“I’m here!” Steph spoke cheerily as she sat onto the edge of the bed. “By the way, don’t you want to tell this to Mum? She has no idea about that you travel in space and time.”

“She would only… forget it.”

“What do you mean?” She sipped from the tea.

“The Proclamators developed a medicine which modifies the memory to make everyone forget the Doctor. While I was in the captivity of the Proclamators, a trap was set for him by a Teb’Sagro-named figure. He’s also a Wakilan’dar. He said that the Doctor doesn’t deserve the respect he gets.”

“But he saves so many people, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, of course. He did lots of bad things at the same time. You remember that they always mention on the series what he did in the Time War. So I think it’s about that.”

“Really, back to the series. So you say that it’s the Nayads’ did this to fool us? You think that Moffat is an alien, too?” she whispered.

“I don’t think so but I don’t really know…” Andrew shrugged. “The point is that I escaped, the planet also escaped and the Doctor brought me home.”

“Hey, you clamped the end of it!” Steph’s smile faltered when she looked at his brother’s face. “Oh, God!” she lifted her free hand to her mouth. “What did you live through?”

“Let’s leave it,” the boy waved sadly.

Stephanie stood up, put the mug down and hugged Andrew. The boy looked at his sister’s face and thought about that she didn’t hug him for a very long time.

“Everything will be alright,” the girl whispered. “Everything.”

“Nothing will!” Andrew exclaimed and the girl jumped back in fright. “I almost died, more than once! I met a Weeping Angel, travelled in the Time Vortex, aliens grappled around me then a burning building spilt onto me, they aimed a pistol at me!” he gave out every anger of his at once. “And I’m still a target! Would you still like to be in my place?”

Stephanie’s eyes shone wetly, her worry came to the surface in the form of tears.

“Sorry that I poured all of this onto you!” the boy quietened his voice.

“No… no problem!” his sister stammered. “But the Doctor will save you,” she stated. “He always saves his partners.”

“Yeah, of course. Even if I don’t die… What if I also get stuck in another dimension or timeline? If I die like that I’m not born yet? It’s always on my mind. What will happen to you, hm?”

“Come on, Andrew, everything will be alright, I’m sure of it,” Steph tried to calm him but her words rang emptily.

“And now I fidget on what happens next. I don’t know whether the Doctor’s other companions worried about this, the series doesn’t really talk about this but I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what tomorrow brings. If one day something breaks in here and tries to kidnap me. Or you get hurt accidentally. All of that will be because of me.”

Stephanie hugged her sibling again then stepped back and smiled at him.

“I can’t say anything which wouldn’t sound platitudinous. But I believe in you! And I believe in the Doctor from now, too! It won’t be a problem.” She pummelled into the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, cheer up! You could introduce me to him once; he’s really nice although the Tenth was cuter, if he really resembled Tennant…”

She walked to the door but before she left the room, turned back.

“I’ll be downstairs, if you’d like to talk more.”

Andrew stayed alone with his thoughts. His sister’s sudden concern felt good to him but he was sorry for that he had to get into deadly danger first. But he told her the truth; he really didn’t know what awaits him. At the same time, his sister was right as well, he can’t give it up.

He looked at the mobile phone lying on the table which he got from the Doctor. Yes, he won’t resign himself to that he can die. He will fight against it, with tooth and claw if it’s needed. Andrew McAllistair never threw up the sponge and he won’t do it this time, either.

He will bravely face everything what the future brings.


	7. A Band of Sisters, Part One

‘He will catch me soon. He’s behind me and will catch me.’

This thought pounded in Andrew’s head when he slammed his room’s door behind him and jumped to the desk. He knew that the door won’t set his chaser back; a metre-thick steel wall maybe couldn’t stop the man. And he had a weapon.

He gasped for air like a mad man; he felt that his lungs will be torn out. His hands shook as he swept almost everything down from the desk to find the mobile phone which the Doctor gave him. He tore the drawers from their places and hinted their contents onto the floor. He threw himself to the ground, digging through his stuff on all fours. He hoped that the bed hides him like this and maybe this will give him a couple of seconds against his attacker.

His heart gave a large beat when his hand felt the phone’s rounded corners. He picked the machine up and started to dial.

He pushed it to his ear so wildly that pressed his earlobe completely to his skull. He listened to the dial tone nervously while he knew that the man gets closer. Then the door crackled as his chaser kicked it in with his booted leg. The door swung into the wall, hitting down plaster. The guy’s weapon stared at Andrew.

The boy, in his final desperation, shouted into the phone.

 

The Doctor watched, smiling and leaning to the phone box as Clara waves back from the house’s white door then disappears behind it in her purple coat. He stepped back into the TARDIS as well. He clapped his hands, almost noting that the adventure came to a good end again. His mood went away from Victorian London for a little time; there was too much horror there. However, by all accounts it was discovered that Teb’Sagro’s device didn’t cause permanent damage in him. At least not a physical one.

He stepped to the control panel cheerily, almost springing, to find himself some kind of an adventurous situation before he comes back for the girl again. In this moment the telephone rang, the sound almost cutting into the spaceship’s quiet humming.

“I hope it’s not Churchill again!” he sighed quietly. “Or Marilyn. I should ask for a restraining order against her. What she’s doing is really an exaggeration.”

He lifted the ancient-looking, banded gadget from the control panel then spoke into it unhurriedly.

“Hello?”

“Doctor! Doctor!” the telephoner’s voice shouted. It was Andrew. “Help me!”

“Andrew!” the man yelled into the telephone but no reply came. The line stayed dead.

He went to the button lashings immediately to, following the call down, get to the boy and hurry to help him. He just gave Andrew the mobile only as a protective measure, hoping honestly, that the boy won’t have to use it. But this isn’t the first case that he had to be disappointed in his hopes.

As if the TARDIS herself could also feel her owner’s emotions, she shook violently, more than usual. The Doctor sometimes took a look at the monitor, making sure that they’re going to the right place and into the right time.

Then the shaking stopped. They’ve landed.

The Doctor arrived at the white-boarded doors with quick steps, groping the sonic screwdriver in the pocket of his jacket to know he will be able to take it out immediately. He tugged the door up and jumped out of the spaceship.

He parked in the living room of the boy’s house, as he did so last time. He could earn precious second with the experience that his ship fits inside.

“Andrew!” he shouted.

For a couple of moments, nothing happened.

Then loud, twanging thuds started to approach him. Someone hurried down the stairs opposite him.

He took out the sonic and pointed it at the stairs. He didn’t believe that it could give much help against a dangerous alien but it was more than nothing. Maybe the attacker believes it’s a weapon and flinches for a time for him to find out something. He waited tensely, what comes down the stairs.

And Andrew appeared.

The boy, as usual, dressed simply, only wearing a brown shirt and a pair of khaki trousers. The smile slipped from his face as he saw the screwdriver fixed on him.

“Is there a trouble, Doctor?” he spoke helplessly while he took the last couple of steps.

The Time Lord jerked Andrew behind him without a word.

“Where’s your attacker?” he asked the boy.

“What attacker?”

“The one who you phoned me about…” The Doctor became confused, lowering the screwdriver.

“I didn’t phone.” The boy slipped a hand through his bushy hair. “No one attacked me.”

The Doctor turned towards the boy. Something buzzed in the back of his brain which annoyed him. Something which he wasn’t able to realise the cause of but, without fail, the boy made him feel like this.

“Are you sure that everything’s okay?” he asked, looking deeply into Andrew’s eyes.

“Of course,” the boy shrugged. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to park with the TARDIS in here. My sister caught a glimpse of you last time, remember? I don’t want Mum to also know what danger my life got into. I don’t want her to worry. She’s not home now but in another time, who knows…”

“Of course, of course.” The Doctor took a look at his beloved box. “The problem is always with the mothers, anyway.” He smiled at Andrew.

“So?” The boy looked up to the man.

“I’ll park to another place, just in case.” He got into the ship and it was gone.

The TARDIS stopped opposite the house, on the exact place where he parked last time. As the Doctor stepped out of the box’s door, he came to a halt. He heard a voice.

“Doctor!” Someone called his name.

He turned towards the direction of the voice and took a glimpse of a young, blonde girl as she stepped through the gate of the house’s fence. She wore a green apron which was covered thickly with mud and earth. Her face was dirty as well, especially her forehead. The Doctor recognised her, although he saw her for only a half-minute: Andrew’s sister.

As the girl arrived in front of the man, took the mudded rubber glove off of her right hand and swung her arm cheerily towards the man.

“I’m Stephanie!” Her smile became a grin as the Time Lord shook her hand. “Andrew’s sister.”

“Pleased to meet you, Andrew’s sister!” The Doctor smiled back.

“I was just at the back, in the garden…” The girl pointed behind her. “But it’s unimportant, where I was. You came for Andrew, didn’t you? I saw him in there last time.”

The Doctor nodded while they started towards the entrance door.

“I wish I could go with you!” Stephanie sighed.

The Doctor quickly pondered what answer he should give her. He didn’t want to get her into trouble, either. Especially now, when he looks at the boy with a strange suspicion, maybe it would be less safe if she’d go with them.

“One day…” He hoped that it will be enough and he doesn’t have to explain.

“Of course, this is his party,” the girl reacted but didn’t seem sullen.

They stopped in front of the door. Stephanie looked up to the Doctor with praying eyes, her voice shook and tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

“Please, take care of him! Bring him back in whole!”

“I will.” The man didn’t dare to say that ‘I promise’. There’s no need of more unkept promises.

“Alright.” The girl nodded. “Then, good bye!” With that, she disappeared, snuffling, behind the garden gate.

The Doctor was left alone with his bitter thoughts. He doesn’t like to meet with his companions’ family members. Everything becomes so real, he realises that they’re not only adventuring, they’re fighting for their lives most the time. And by that time, he has the responsibility for someone; he has to reckon with them if something happens. He couldn’t look into Brian Williams’ eyes after what happened to Amy and Rory, neither since then. He let Anthony to tell him all of it. And now this! What will he say to the girl if something happens to Andrew? Probably nothing because he’ll run away again.

His hand grabbed the handle. Andrew stood opposite him, exactly where he left the boy. As the Doctor closed back the door, he shook his head to get rid of the depressing feelings.

“This isn’t that funny.” He forced the joy’s mask onto himself. “Think about it, my entrance wouldn’t be this effective.”

“That’s for sure.” The boy started to grin then clouded over. “Is there something about the signals?” He pointed at his head.

“Well, not yet. But we could go after it. Come!” he waved with his head.

The boy faltered.

“I don’t know… I’m afraid, Doctor!” Andrew admitted.

“It’s good that you are. It would be distressing if you wouldn’t be. It is good like this.” The man nodded. “But if you just wait here, you won’t be in bigger safety. The nice thing in running is that you can leave your opponent behind.”

“Or you can run into their arms.” The boy puckered up his lips.

“Well, yes. But you see?” The man started to smile from ear to ear. “The run has two outcomes right away.”

“Alright,” the boy agreed, gathering courage. “Let’s go!”

“Now you’re talking!” The Doctor let Andrew go first then followed him to the TARDIS.

He let the boy in then he stepped after the boy himself. He continually watched Andrew while he closed the door, walked to the control panel and, looking at the monitor, started to switch and posit the buttons and handles. He had a suspicion somehow but he didn’t know how to explain, why. He wasn’t accustomed to misdoubt his companions but something still bothered him now. He shrugged in the end, signalling that he delays his suspicion.

“Well, then let’s search for Nayad activity!” he spoke. “We won’t have a hard job, they’re very active, after all.”

Andrew sat down onto the chair, being strangely quiet. The Doctor took a worried look at him and the mistrust crawled back into his mind.

“The TARDIS senses something right away,” he exclaimed. “Hm, Barcelona? I always wanted to get there. Not to the city but the planet. You know, there are…” He fell silent as he looked at the boy. “Oh, you probably know.” He jerked some handles. “Then, Geronimo!”

The TARDIS started to shook and started.

In the shadow of the neighbouring house’s gateway a man watched as the blue police box, stirring wind, vanishes. He narrowed his eyes as he stepped out into the sunshine while he continually watched the point where the box stood previously. Meanwhile he looked through the fence whether the girl is still there. After he made sure that no one sees him, he walked to the spaceship-left trails and stopped. He turned around then growled, put his hands into his pockets and started his way, grinning.

 

The TARDIS finished the voyage, stopping at last. The Doctor appeared at the door in no time but as he looked outside, ran back to the control panel immediately. He took a glance at the monitor while he tried to restart the ship, growling.

“Will I never get to Barcelona?” he murmured.

The monitor flashed, the TARDIS tried to inform the Doctor why the Time Lord isn’t able to start the engines.

“Unknown interference?” the man read the appearing sign. “What interference?”

Suddenly a deep, dull noise filled the inside of the ship. A sound resembling to an enormous bell’s tinkle. The Doctor saw on the boy’s face that he realised: this sound is a bad omen. The man could spare a lot of explanations, thanks to the boy’s precognitions.

“What’s the problem, Doctor?” Andrew stepped next to him.

“The ship doesn’t start.” The Doctor rubbed his chin nervously. “Something disturbs the TARDIS and she can’t step into the Time Vortex. Moreover, we didn’t get to Barcelona, either, We’re still on Earth.”

He pushed a couple of buttons to define their position.

“February of 1945.” The Doctor’s gaze darkened. “I don’t like this year.”

In this moment the TARDIS shook with a force that threatened with the danger of turning over. Andrew clung to the rail and the Doctor gripped the control panel not to fall.

“What was this?” the boy asked.

“Something from the outside,” the Doctor replied. “I go, check.”

The last Time Lord took a peek outside carefully then stepped out to survey where they are.

It was night already; the clouds hid the Moon and the stars. The TARDIS landed in the middle of a pinewood, almost pinned between two pine tree’s thick boles. One of the boles broke at one and a half metres above ground, the rest of the tree lying next to the box, opposite the man. The ground was covered with arm-thick shards, piercing the surface of the soft snow.

The Doctor’s nose was burnt by the stink of machine oil and gunpowder. He bypassed the TARDIS and found what caused the convulsion and the tree’s snap. A bank bullet bore into the ground, its nose gazing towards the sky. It seemed that it sprang from the ship’s coverage but thanks for its enormous speed; it dug itself in opposite the course.

A town’s silhouette loomed up nearby. Machine guns’ barking could be heard from that direction, the bullets’ lights coloured the sky and the walls of the ruined, punched out houses. The weapons’ crackle filtered out of the buildings. Explosions and cannon projectiles’ whizzing also cut into the cacophony from time to time.

The TARDIS took off next to a clash.

The Doctor ran back into the box and dragged Andrew out of it. He knew that the box is a safe place but if it once turns over, it will be a hard work to align it, not to mention that he can’t start the ship just yet. If that is what prevents the start of the engines spreads to other systems as well, maybe destroys the shield then they aren’t in more safety inside either. A bullet like this would be able to break through the coverage. They can hope that there’s a bunker or a cellar in the town, no matter who owns it.

Although they didn’t see much from the dark and the snow-covered, thick undergrowth had the danger of tripping and falling, he departed, dragging Andrew with him not to lose sight of the boy. He ran. He was the best in it, after all.

 

Captain Richard Winters sat at the table in a house which was named to be the command centre, reading through the patrol’s reports from the day before, before they are forwarded to the depot. He took a little rest, looking at his temporary home’s green-wallpapered, flower-motived walls. He looked out at the slowly brightening sky through the glassless window.

The American company led by him stationed in the town of the Alsatian Haguenau. The town was built to the filth of a river and a channel. They settled down on the south bank, the enemy Germans pull themselves up in the houses of the north bank. During the night, he sent a patrol to the other side to catch German soldiers who they can interrogate. The mission succeeded.

He stood up from the table and stroked his freshly shaved face. It was important to him to appear in the most acceptable state, depending on the circumstances. He fixed his crumpled uniform when someone stepped into the room. It was Lewis Nixon, the regiment’s reconnaissance officer. The Captain only needed to take a look at the officer’s drawn-out, stubbly face and dishevelled hair to know that his fellow soldier tries to get rid of yesterday’s hungover. The Reconnaissance officer waved friendly while he took his helmet off his head.

“Sink is happy with the result!” Nixon spoke. He still rubbed his hands to warm them up a little. “Maybe he comes out to congratulate.”

“Of course he is,” Winters sighed. “What did we get to know from the Fritzs?”

“One of them mouthed properly: failing morals, service problems, the colour of Hitler’s breeches. But nothing substantive.” He shrugged. “The other didn’t speak. Oh,” he raised his index finger, as if it would come to his mind just now, “we caught two civilians during the night.” He took a leather case from the pocket of his outworn coat. “One of them, according to his papers… John Smith, war correspondent, but I think he’s lying. The other’s only a kid, he doesn’t have an ID.”

He threw the case at his friend with a quick move. Winters caught it and lifted it in front of his face.

“How much did you drink, Nix?”

“Not more than usual.”

“Then you can handle alcohol less and less,” he showed the case, with only a white paper in it, “because this is blank.”

“Tut!” Nixon stepped closer to the Captain and took the card holder. “It says that John Smith.”

Winters put his hand onto the Reconnaissance officer’s shoulder sympathetically. Then walked out of the building.

As he did on every day of their standing, he observed the town. The streets were covered with debris, dust and bullets. The obelisk-like memorial in the middle of the square still stood miraculously. Most of the streets were locked down with sandbag walls and barricades and roadblocks were lying on the streets themselves. There almost wasn’t a full inch on the walls of the houses and which still stood was dotted with the mark of hundreds of bullets. There wasn’t glass in either of the windows but the doors and the window panes were gone as well as their cases. The company, which they dismissed, burnt them earlier.

He made his way to the first squad’s temporary accommodation in the chilly cold. The building stood square to the river’s line, this was the nearest to the enemy frontline. He tried to walk carefully because the German snipers shot immediately as they sensed any movement. Everyone did this in the company who had to leave the security-providing houses.

A soldier called Eugene Jackson was hurt from the members of the sent-out patrolmen; some grenade-shards dig into his face and arm. According to the corpsman, he’ll be alright. Winters decided that he visits the soldier.

The Captain successfully reached the house’s gate without drawing the snipers’ attention to himself. He entered. He still couldn’t get used to the sight of the ruined house. The wall came down in long pieces and there were places where it was completely gone. The lot of debris containing plaster, brickbats and glass shards reached to the ankle. A terrific smell spread, most of the WCs clogged up a long time ago. A large hole gawped on the upstairs’ floor. There wasn’t a roof, either; a mine grenade blew it off before their arrival.

Winters jogged down into the cellar, almost choking from the cigarette smoke. Most of the soldiers smoked the cheap cigarette, even now. There were people who were playing cards and there were others who were making jokes or talking. Lieutenant Jones shouted a ‘Magistrate, attention!’, though, but they didn’t even listen to that. They were in the firing line, far from the depth of the front, didn’t care about formalities. Winters didn’t mind this. He fought enough by the side of these boys not to bother him the lack of salutation or shun. He nodded towards the soldiers then stepped to Jackson who was sitting in the bed frame.

“How are you, soldier?” he asked blandly.

Jackson’s face was swollen, some shards weren’t removed. But the bleeding stopped, he got clean clothes so only the swollen parts sneaked about the injury. As the Private grinned, his face puckered up.

“Never better, Sir!”

Jackson wasn’t even twenty, the Captain reminded himself. Still, he saw more horror in his life than others ever will. He could be grateful that he survived the grenade. Now, when Winters saw that the mood is still good, he started back. There are some things to read through if Colonel Sink visits the Captain for real.

However, as he got back to the house which was named to be the battle position, cannily and carefully again, he had to face that he’s waited. Nixon, leaning to the wall, observed the two newcomers with suspicious looks. A woman and a man stood in the middle of the room.

Both of them wore loose brown jackets with a thick wool jumper beneath. There were gloves on their hands. A gun holder hung from the man’s shoulder belt, the woman wore the same holder on her left thigh, she was probably left-handed. The woman fixed her curly, blonde hair languidly. The man munched a smouldering cigarette, his stubbly face cried for a razor. Their clothes were as dirty as his soldiers’ equipment, although they didn’t seem to be privates. Actually, he saw women only in the Red Cross’ bond but it was in the hinterland.

“Are you the company’s appointed leader?” the man asked on his brazen voice.

“Captain Richard D. Winters, anon!”

“How do you do, Captain!” The guy just threw the greeting. “I heard that it was brilliant, what you’ve done at the Brecourt Manor.”

Winters wasn’t even taken aback on the lack of introduction.

“We found a very interesting thing in the forest,” the man continued. “So I would like to ask: wasn’t a man passing by, who calls himself the Doctor? Or John Smith?”

“We arrested him at night,” Nixon added.

“I see, great.” The man started to delve into his pocket then took out an ID on which a hexagon-put out ‘T’ letter pranked.

The Captain’s and the Reconnaissance officer’s eyes met, confused.

“Well, gentlemen, thank you for your cooperation!” the man said reservedly. “The case will be taken over by the Torchwood Institute.”

 

The Doctor and Andrew sat on a couple of rickety chairs in a house’s cellar. They weren’t trussed but a riffled American soldier stood guard in front of the door.

The Doctor’s calculation worked; there really were safe cellars in the town. Though he didn’t plan on them being taken prisoners but maybe it was better like this. Maybe they weren’t able to get in any other way. Suspicion reared its head everywhere in the war, no one trusted strangers on the front. Anyone can easily be collaborator or spy. That’s why it isn’t surprising that they didn’t believe the psychic paper, no matter what it said.

The room where they were guarded could be a wine vault once, at least the thick smell of alcohol purported to be this. Although the cellar itself gawped emptily; what was drinkable was taken or drank long ago, what was made of wood was burnt.

The Time Lord exhaled into his palms then rubbed them together to generate a little heat. Though he tolerated the cold but it couldn’t be said about his partner. He was human, after all.

Andrew was freezing terribly. He was shaking, cuddling up. He started to go blue. Although the Doctor laid his suit jacket, it won’t save him from dying from freezing. He could only hope that an officer comes soon to interrogate them or to something else from whom he can ask for some kind of thick blanket or jumper for the boy.

They could be caught some time after midnight and it could be at about six in the morning, the Doctor couldn’t say exactly. They had to wait nearly six hours in the cold, especially the boy until someone appeared next to the guard-standing soldier who sometimes, for longer times, closed his eyes to rest them a little. The approaching man didn’t seem to be a soldier, at least not an American, he didn’t wear the linemen’s and officers’ uniform. His brown coat wasn’t decorated by any ensign or prefix. As he stepped in, he looked at Andrew then, leaning closer to the guard, whispered something into his ear and the soldier hurried away. Maybe he realised that it isn’t lucky, if the interviewed isn’t in a confessable state. He shot the cigarette butt, which was hanging from his mouth all along, to the ground languidly, his gaze settling on the Doctor. He didn’t seem surprised that he can’t see the man chatter in a shirt and a waistcoat.

Soon after, the sent soldier arrived with a sack. He threw it to the ground and unlashed its mouth. Thick, wool-made clothes flipped out of it. He roughly pulled the chattering-teethed boy to his feet and dressed him up because Andrew almost couldn’t move. The soldier put a jumper and got trousers onto him. Then Andrew was put into a military coat as well. Almost every one of them was large for the lad but his face slowly started to have a healthier colour. The Doctor puckered up his lips bitterly when he spotted the bloodstains on the clothes. Probably they were a man’s who was already killed, he thought while he put his jacket back on.

The soldier left the sack there and stood back at the door. The newly came man stepped closer and a blonde woman appeared behind him. She was younger than the man, her eyes fell. She was probably his subordinate. A strange scent came from her direction, too thick to be a perfume, but the Time Lord couldn’t find out what it was.

There was something strange in the man’s gaze: the gaze of a man who they think to be a leader but he has reservations regarding the cue. The gaze of a man who gets ready to his first public speech and aims not to disappoint anyone. The Doctor saw one of this kind of man in front of him.

“You can go out!” he snapped at the American soldier. He had a strong Scottish accent.

Firstly, the American stared in front of him, confused, then he saw better to obey the order. Maybe he finds a quiet corner where he can sleep. If someone calls him to account on why he left his post, he will point at this man.

“You know, Doc,” the man started, “you had a dummy big luck!”

The Doctor stared disconcertedly at the man; he deleted the Time Lord’s analysis with his first sentence. He wasn’t taken aback, he simply wasn’t a beginner. It seemed that the man knew exactly what he wants.

“If it’s possible, let’s leave this fondling,” the Time Lord said reservedly, “let’s stay at the Doctor!”

“So let it be, Doctor!” The man fell silent as the sound of Andrew’s miffing teeth assailed his ear.

“Why did I have luck?” the Doctor asked.

“If you land a couple hundreds of miles away, an English company could have found the box, not us. And that would be on its way to Churchill.”

“Oh, I see! And you probably don’t mean me there.”

“No. Actually we should be grateful because you and the pretty redhead prevented Winston to send salt shakers onto the battlefield.”

The Doctor was surprised by the reply; he didn’t expect a remark like this. The newcomers were clearly aware of who they stand opposite. There’s time for it to be true inversely.

“And who do we owe the luck?”

The man swung, offering a hand.

“I’m Robert Adams, my partner is,” he pointed back towards the woman, “Astrid Gresham. We are here in the representation of the Torchwood Institute.”

“Ah, Torchwood!” The Doctor allowed a smile to himself.

“And the boy?” Adams pointed at Andrew. “There aren’t any age limits at the companions? Or is he a relative of yours?”

“Andrew McAllistair, Sir,” the boy chattered.

“What do you want, actually?” The Doctor averted their attention from Andrew. “’Cause you didn’t come because of us, that’s for sure. I thought that Torchwood doesn’t interfere with wars.”

“Our instruments indicated seismic disturbances,” Astrid spoke half-heartedly but fell silent at Adams’ look.

“As she says,” the Torchwood officer nodded reluctantly. ”You were drifted into our path by providence itself. They are waiting for you in Glasgow, palm-rubbing. Or they would, if there would be a mogul there, apart from me.”

“Glasgow? So you’re from the second base.”

“Yes, from there, you’re right.” Adams lifted one of his eyebrows suspiciously.

“I already had a common case with Torchwood,” the Time Lord explained.

“Oh, yes. I heard that there’s a Jack named guy on the third who is looking for you. I’m able to agree with him in that you aren’t as bad of a guy as the establishing warrant says.”

“Something like that.” The Doctor’s smile widened, it seems that they aren’t in big trouble.

“But unfortunately, doesn’t matter what I believe,” Adams clouded up. “Because the order is clear and London will firmly look onto our nail if we don’t follow it.”

“You’ll arrest us?” The Time Lord became surprised.

“Something like that. The jeep is already here, ready for transportation. So let’s go!”

Adams hitched Andrew up firmly then let him hook onto the Doctor, helping him staying on his feet. The boy, although he was in a better colour, desperately clung to the time traveller’s arm for his rigid legs to endure his weight.

Astrid got upstairs first, the Doctor and his companion after her, Adams following them.

And then the machine guns crackled up.

Adams appeared in front of them immediately, baffled the two time adventurers back into the areaway then stepped back next to his partner. However, the woman didn’t leave it at that, pushed the man towards the hatchway while she shouted:

“Back!” She stayed in the door herself.

But nothing happened, not a bullet impacted near them. Moreover, the whole beach wasn’t touched by any missile.

Astrid fixed her stray curls nervously then looked into the up-walking Adams’ eyes guiltily.

“I’m sorry, Commander!” she said, blushing.

“No problem, Miss Gresham, I know the protocol.” Adams waved to the Doctor that they can come forward.

The Time Lord listened suspiciously to the shooting of the weapons. They were unequivocally German models and it seemed that they’re shooting at something on their side. At the same time, he was surprised by the Torchwood woman’s sudden token. It isn’t possible for them to be this good of actors!

“What are they shooting at?” Andrew asked the question which came to the mind of every one of them.

 

Winters hurried towards the first squad’s building with large steps. He was called from its highest level.

When the German machine guns could be heard minutes earlier, everyone took shelter. But they had to realise that they aren’t threatened by the drifts of bullets, the enemy soldiers fought something on their side. Without flaring success because the weapon of Hitler’s soldiers fell silent one by one.

The observer of the first squad sent for him because he spotted something on the other side with the telescope what ‘he didn’t want to believe himself’. The Captain was curious about what he could see. He didn’t have to care about hiding; the snipers’ littlest problem was bigger than them dealing with him.

While he climbed the stairs leading to the third floor, he thought back at the two Torchwood agents, at the shy woman and the guy who behaved like some kind of far-western yobbo in a John Wayne film. According to Nixon, it doesn’t worth teasing them, saying that his father got into a Torchwood case once and he just got out of it. Winters only felt strange that two civilians appear in twenty-four hours, one of them with an empty ID case, two officers from an organisation which he never even heard about and the Germans are attacked as well. Suspicious coincidences. He wanted to know, what goes on there.

As he got to the top, the soldier immediately pushed the telescoped riffle into his hand then took a notebook and a pen out of his pocket.

“Is this the best time to write your diary, Professor?” Winters asked but only the pen’s sputter replied.

So the Captain lifted the riffle’s telescope in front of his eyes, closed his left eye and focused.

He saw lots of German corpses on the other side, the wounded groaned for help. Three soldiers aimed for one point with their machine guns, one of them throwing a grenade as well. Following the explosion, weapons started to fire but the bullets, getting ricochet, crackled here and there. Then a series of missiles cut through the three of them, extending them. Everything became quiet. It was over.

As the smoke decayed, he could still see something move away. It sparkled with a silver colour, its movements were sense and reserved but its every step trembled, it hit his feet down with enormous force. As if someone would wear a suit of armour. He couldn’t observe it completely; a house’s lastly standing wall quickly hid it from him.

He put the riffle down, disappointed. When he turned, Lieutenant Jones stood behind him. He saluted and didn’t even move until Winters didn’t throw a ‘Rest!’ to him.

“The German hostage shouts continually, Sir!” he reported. “Something like: Maschienenmonster.”


	8. A Band of Sisters, Part Two

“We have to get to the other side!” the Doctor announced.

“What?” Andrew was shocked.

“There’s something over there, which, as I can hear, finished with the soldiers.” He followed with his gaze as a captain-ranked American officer hurries away, accompanied by a lieutenant.

“And?” Robert shrugged. “These are Germans.”

“But humans!” the Time Lord yelled at him. “Whatever attacked them killed a wing within moments. Maybe it has a connection to that seismic activity what you’re looking for.”

“I agree with the Doctor,” Astrid raised her voice half-heartedly.

Robert Adams looked at his compeer and nodded slowly and reservedly.

“Let it be! But don’t forget, Doctor,” his index finger expanded to the alien’s chest, “you are still in custody!”

“I won’t forget.” The Doctor fixed his bow tie. “Can we go?”

“What about the boy?” Astrid asked. “He can’t come with us.”

In this moment Adams saw a soldier stepping out of the house opposite. His face was swollen but he seemed to be able to be on duty. Robert hurried to him, first with words then with flashing his ID, brought him to take care of Andrew. The private lumbered down with the boy into the basement.

“We now only have to get through,” the Doctor murmured.

“What would you do without your box?” Robert shook his head. “There’s a dinghy on the bank, we will use that!”

The weird trio walked down to the river bank then looked for the net-covered dinghy, not far from the house on the riverside. Although they brushed the snow off its surface, the cold still made its effect felt, the dinghy’s wall was stiff. The Doctor was almost afraid of its snap in any moment.

But they had to wait with set the vehicle afloat. The river emanated, its drifting was strong. It could be about fifty metres wide; the waves broke lazily on the bank. There wasn’t a paddle near them.

Astrid took the backpack off, which she brought all along, then took a forearm-sized metal machinery out of it which, unfolded, put on the form of a manual crossbow. She gave it to Adams then she also hunted for a rope and two massive steel arrows. She hit one of them into the wall of the house then attached the rope and looped its other end around the second arrow. And she gave it to her superior as well.

Adams aimed the tree standing alone on the other side whose branches were tore off by the daily drift of bullets but its log sprawled proudly. After he estimated the distance, lifted the crossbow and shot. The arrow winged with a whistle, pulling the rope with itself then lodged into the callous log. The rope tensed above the river.

Adams carefully pushed the boat into the water, standing inside it with one leg and on the bank with another. He let Astrid and the Doctor to get in then stepped after them. Suddenly, the backwash waxed the boat but Adams reacted quickly and clutched the rope, keeping them in one place.

The Doctor looked up to the man then his gaze slipped at Astrid. The woman covertly glanced at the man but quickly, as if she would do something bad, turned away almost immediately.

Adams got to work: he reached out with long, slow movements, affixed the rope and pulled them away. After repeating the move sweat drops sat onto his forehead then they slowly ran down to drop into the boat from the tip of his nose.

The Doctor made up his fingers in his boredom. He didn’t get used to him being inactive, almost unnecessary in his own adventure. He thought worriedly about what they could find on the other side. Maybe the failure of the TARDIS, his strange suspicion on Andrew and the disturbance what Astrid mentioned cohere. All of this can’t be an accidental coincidence, after all.

As the boat’s nose hit the bank, Robert appeared on the outside immediately and, after his partner and the Doctor got off as well, dragged it next to the tree quickly not to let the river wash it away.

The Doctor looked down at the German soldier’s bloodied corpse, which lay on the bank, regretfully. He could lay here for a day, he didn’t lose his life in the attack but the Doctor still felt sorry for him. A youngster who could have had a so much better life in another era.

“Move quietly!” Adams waved towards them but he gave this order only from shakedown. He didn’t expect to lapse into Germans.

They sneaked through the town until he forest bordering Haguenau. They counted that they only load the lookout, they have to hurry. What they saw appalled all of them.

Several dozens of German corps lay in different postures between sandbags and machinegun nests.

“They lost their lives in the cold, chilly nothing,” the Doctor spoke bitterly.

The other two looked at him but didn’t say anything, thinking about his words. Adams came back earlier and glanced around but Astrid couldn’t look away. After hearing her superior’s quiet voice, she eventually lifted her head and turned away from the bodies.

They split up to find trails alluding to the attacker. Where did it come from? What can it be? The Doctor kneeled next to one of the German corpse to examine the bullets bored into the ground around him. The attacker shot series, didn’t aim accurately. It used worldly ammunition.

He caught one of the bullets between two of his fingers and lifted it from the cove dig by it. It emanated a strange smell. He lifted it in front of his mouth slowly and licked it carefully. His eyes widened, dropped the bullet then started rubbing his tongue with his other hand.

“Ew! Ew! Ew!” he repeated then gawped some to make sure of the disappearance of its taste. He now noticed that as if his fingers also scorched.

“What is it, Doctor?” Astrid neared him.

“Acidic Silurian venom,” he replied, still grimacing. “Did I say Silurian? Forget it! Homo reptilia venom, just intensified.”

“Homo reptilia? Lizard man?”

“Something like that. It explains lots of things: the quick death of the garrison and the seismic activity.” He nodded towards the woman. “At the same time, it raises more questions as well. Homo reptilia don’t use human weapons.” He was thinking then stared at Astrid. “Where is your partner?”

“He found footprints and follows them.” Worry could be heard in her voice.

“Footprints?”

“They’re large and deep. Something heavy could have left them.”

“Who I talk about aren’t heavy. They’re almost breeze-stepped.”

After minutes, they became attentive to the crackle of the moorland and branches. Adams ran towards them with his pistol in his hand, looking behind his back. As he arrived next to them he motioned them to go. The Doctor didn’t know what could upset him this much; he saw it better to follow the Torchwood leader. A relieved sigh left Astrid’s lips.

As they got back to the boat and helped it onto the water, they repeated the getting in procedure played earlier. However, before Robert could have stepped in, the bush rustled. Adams pointed his pistol at the greenery, waiting tensely what step forward. A German soldier appeared, shivering and shaking from fear. He gawped but not a voice left his mouth. Adams looked at him for a moment then pulled the trigger.

The soldier waned back between the leaves.

“What are you doing?” the Doctor yelled at him, brushing every carefulness aside. The boat swung. “He was human.”

“But German and, in this quality, the enemy of the British Crown,” the Torchwood officer shorted the argument then kicked them away from the bank.

 

Winters sauntered sullenly towards the command post, with two privates in his wake. On the way to the German prisoners, he ran into Colonel Sink who praised the squad with words for yesterday’s ‘tongue catching’ then charged the Captain to organise another mission.

Two things worried him in connection of this. The first one was the nature’s ugly joke: although last night the sky was covered by clouds, it will be full moon tonight, hereby his men would become easy targets and so he would sacrifice them unnecessarily without the littlest hope of success. The second one freighted him better, the thing what he got to know from the German captive. The lance-corporal, who didn’t say a word, freaked out so it was harder to make out what he said even after the translator’s arrival.

The officer talked about a metal warrior who entered the safe-believed camp and pilfered their ammunition backups more than once. No matter how many times they tried to prevent this, the respective finished with the soldiers who were sent to liquidate it without any problems. He witnessed one of the massacres, he didn’t sleep since then and it could be seen on him. And now he heard the crackle of its weapon.

If what he says it true then that something means bigger danger to his subordinates than all of the riffles of the Third Empire’s army. According to the reports coming from the front, the German collapse, and the war’s end with it, is in the offing. Now there’s no need for sacrificing people’s lives unnecessarily. He finds out something to save his men from certain death.

This was the moment he heard the stifled sound of a machinegun. Aside from the place where they locked the caught civilians.

He darted and the two privates followed him, confused. They didn’t know what they will find but they didn’t expect anything good.

As Winters jogged down the stairs, he gasped. There was nothing in the cellar but the boy and Eugene Jackson, underdone, fallen to the wall. Where he stood eight bullets bore into the wall, it seemed that they went straight through the Private. The captured civilian boy huddled up in the corner opposite him, in a seemingly shocked state. There wasn’t a weapon anywhere. He kneeled next to Jackson, only to check that Jackson’s already dead.

The soldiers coming after him stared at the body of their comrade, as confusedly as their Captain. Then one of them appeared in front of the boy, clasped his collar and lashed him to the wall. Tears festered into the lad’s eyes.

“What have you done, you creep?” he shouted into the boy’s face from a couple of centimetres.

“Let him go, Vest!” Winters calmly put him in his place.

“Gene was only a kid, just survived a grenade. And this scum killed him.”

“This is also a kid!” the Captain hissed. “I said, let him go!”

“You heard the Captain!” the Torchwood officer’s voice boomed on the top of the stairs.

Winters murmured to himself a little. Where were they until this? But the summoned soldier didn’t move. Betwixt the other civilian arrived with the two Torchwood agents. The Adams-named put his hand onto his shoulder but he shook it off.

“Shut up, Union Jack!” the Private still shouted.

Adams hugged the American from behind and started to drag him away from the boy. The lad dropped to the ground, squeaking then huddled up again. His partner appeared next to him immediately and crouched down as well. However, Vest kept his end up, trying aggressively to free from the Scot’s grip.

“Marsh, help him!” Winters instructed the other Private.

They tried to remove Vest from the cellar with united force when he touched his pistol hanging on his belt then tried to shoot at the boy. Adams slapped his hand away in time but the weapon pointed at Astrid when it fired.

The bullet went towards Astrid’s chest. Then, as if the woman wouldn’t be there, the missile lashed into the wall behind her but it jagged her clothes on her front and back. Betwixt Adams and the other Private dragged the American out from the cellar who was flinging his smoking pistol.

“I would like an explanation!” the Captain said coldly to the woman.

 

The Doctor kneeled next to Andrew; the boy could barely concentrate to the outside world. The lad just shook and sobbed.

“Andrew, what happened?” he asked, trying to bring his companion around nut he didn’t reply. “Andrew, listen to me! Listen! What happened?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Andrew stammered, his voice was barely audible. “We were only talking… Then…” His voice broke. “Then the bullets came and he died.”

The flowing tears from the boy’s eyes reminded the Time Lord to the river. Maybe this was the base of his suspicion? The boy would be able to kill? Then an idea flashed in his brain. A bitter but maybe relevant idea.

“Show me your hand! Your hand!”

Because the boy didn’t react, the Doctor grabbed his hand, a bit more roughly than it was necessary. He operated the sonic screwdriver onto it but the gadget didn’t signal any deviations. His idea failed, the boy isn’t an Auton copy. Or would he be a very perfect model? Out of the question! This filled him with delight and more worry.

“Calm down!” he said, trying to make his voice soothing.

He stood from the boy’s side and turned to Adams who was coming back.

“What the hell happened here?” the Torchwood officer asked.

“We don’t know, Commander,” Astrid shook her head. “Something killed this soldier.”

“Isn’t there any sign of reetu?”

“No, Sir.”

Adams shook his head disapprovingly at this then turned to the Doctor.

“And the boy?”

“It wasn’t Andrew if you’d think that, by any chance,” the Doctor pinned down but his voice wasn’t too convincing.

“Others weren’t here,” Captain Winters interrupted on his calm voice. “So no one else could do it. And I would like get an explanation on why your compeer,” he looked at the woman, “wasn’t hurt by the bullet.”

“Oh, Captain, you can be a witness of a much bigger universe now,” the Doctor said. “Which you could enjoy, if you wouldn’t fence the war of nations!” He bore his intent gaze into Adams’.

“Doctor, I already told you, I’m carrying out an order.”

“The excuse of the cowards.” The Time Lord shrugged.

“You dare to call me a coward?”

“Not now, Robert!” Astrid put him in his place.

The Doctor didn’t look over the woman using Adams’ first name. The Torchwood agent calmed down.

“I won’t argue about this with you, Doctor. And the thing concerning Miss Gresham,” he turned to the Captain, “well, she was hit by a wrongly rigged disruptor-riffle a long time ago. So, she didn’t moulder but her cell structure changed. She’s able to make her body permeable in a boosted emotional state.”

“Hm, so that was the thing I felt the smell of.” The Doctor started to smile.

“What are you talking about?” Winters lifted his eyebrow.

“Maybe you’ll understand it one day,” Adams looked at him. “Or won’t. Anyway, I take over the lead of the new patrol.”

“What do you mean by this?” Winters didn’t pay attention to where the other gets his information from. “There will be no patrol!”

“But you got an order to do that!” Adams was taken aback.

“An illogical order. I would send them to death. My soldiers aren’t only numbers in a statistics, it’s about lives. From which not one,” he looked at the corpse, “is already lost.”

“But we’ll find something on the other side against which we’ll need weapons. Lots of weapons.”

“Against the machine monsters?”

“Yes. How do you know that?”

“We have two German prisoners. One of them was spluttering about those in his fright.”

The Doctor’s eyes were jumping to and fro, depending on which one of the two men was talking at the moment.

“So, you know the conditions. We’ll go over tonight!”

“I won’t let you to put not one of my men in danger!” Winters flared up. “The war is almost over. We can’t make meaningless sacrifices.”

“If those things break loose there, it won’t matter, who wins the war,” the Doctor spoke quietly. “I don’t like weapons but I have to agree with Agent Adams. We have to dismantle the threat somehow. And maybe we won’t have to kill them.” He squinted at Adams.

“Of course, Doctor. If we don’t have to, we won’t kill. But it looks like we won’t have another choice now.”

Winters thought about it then nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed. “But there will be no dispatch. I’ll ask around in the bound, if there will be volunteers, they’ll come with us. I’ll go anyway. And I’ll try to detract Colonel Sink’s attention.”

“There’s surely some kind of good Champaign somewhere,” Adams started to grin. “Maybe your Nixon mate has some. That would ‘detract’ Bobby Bourbon’s attention.”

At the mention of the Colonel’s nickname, the edge of Winters’ mouth bent into a smile.

“So be it!”

 

As night fell, the crossing troop flocked next to the river. The light of the full moon sparkled dully on the snow. The Captain was chatting with Nixon, quietly. The young, raggedy soldiers were checking their weapons like they did before every action. In the veins of two of them, as the Time Lord could adjudge, Redskin blood was also streaming.

The doctor wasn’t surprised by the fact that only four soldiers volunteered for the action. He wouldn’t have waited from them to sacrifice their lives in a ticklish mission. He expected Cybermen, after listening to Winters and Adams, but he didn’t understand how they got here. The discovered Homo Reptilia venom was a disturbing condition as well. The jigsaw’s pieces didn’t clog together.

But the Time Lord was taken the shortest when Adams appeared with Astrid in his trail and was pushing Andrew in front of him. The Doctor hurried up to the agent.

“What does this want to mean? I told you that the boy is not responsible for anything.”

“I believe you. But I don’t want to lose the sight of him. You probably understand.”

“I won’t let you…”

“Doctor!” Adams’ voice hardened. “You are now the participant of a military operation which I lead. You owe me obedience.”

The Doctor saw that he can’t do anything. Moreover, it can be a good idea if he can keep an eye on his young partner.

As Adams got to the gun-checking soldiers, he stepped next to the Captain.

“Powers, McClung, Ramirez, Marsh.” Winters pointed at the soldiers one by one. “Just for you to know who you take responsibility for.”

“People!” the Torchwood agent spoke to the volunteers. “What you will see and do tonight, won’t happen. Don’t report, don’t talk to anyone about that! Even when Marshall himself asks, don’t speak.”

“Or Ambrose,” the Doctor murmured but Winters heard this anyway.

“Who?”

“You will know that,” the Time Lord waved.

Nixon said goodbye to the Captain as well; the scout officer was responsible for not leaving any clue about the mission, the tribe will only get report about an unsuccessful patrol.

“Dick, as soon as you come back, I’ll invite you for something strong!”

“You know that I don’t drink,” the Captain rebuked his friend.

“We’ll see when you get back!”

They got two other dinghies from somewhere, the method of crossing was the same as it was in the morning. Only three figures could be seen from the distance, reaching out from the black cloud of shadows, who were clinging to the stretched rope against the backwash.

This time the Doctor waited quietly until they get to the other side, meanwhile soothing his sight on Andrew. The boy slowly recovered from the shuddering and the shock.

“Doctor, what waits us over there?” Andrew asked.

“Cybermen.” This was all the Doctor said.

The boy didn’t reply. The Doctor didn’t speak. He couldn’t have said anything which calms Andrew.

 

Half an hour later, in the middle of the forest, the company was stalking forward. Adams marched ahead, paying attention to every noise, keeping Andrew next to him. The Americans were walking behind him, relatively all over the place. They followed the instructions by hauling like this: because they were walking on a malignant territory, there’s a chance that they will be spotted and so they don’t make a multitudinous target. Astrid and the Doctor were the file-closers.

“You know, Astrid,” the time traveller addressed her, “I knew another Astrid once, she was a nice lady. Tell me, is Agent Adams always this nervous?”

“Excuse this to Robert!” the woman whispered. “This is the first mission of which he’s the commander of.”

“Here we go again.” The Doctor started to grin. “You used his first name again.”

“Really?” Astrid got frightened. “I’m sorry, it was only a trip.”

“Of course,” the Doctor nodded. “So is this his first mission as a leader?”

“In this measure, yes. Since Mr Woodstock died three months ago in a crooked mission, Mr Adams didn’t find his place.” She was careful this time with how she talks about Adams. “The leadership remained on him.”

“Since when do you stead, Astrid?” the Doctor asked.

“I work for Torchwood for two years. After my accident I became a useful member of the second

base at last. I can protect Adams like this. And the others, of course.” she added quickly.

 

The group suddenly stopped when Adams waved so. They reached the point where the Torchwood agent suspected the Cyberman base to be. The ground ascended lightly before them, everyone laid on their stomachs and they neared the top of the slope like that. The soldiers set up their weapon next to each other and Ramirez dug a machine gun’s leg onto the frigid ground.

All of them were surprised by what they saw.

“For Sobel’s sake! What the devil is this?” McClung murmured.

The slope was followed by a regular cauldron, in the middle of the cycle-formed hole a tiny way opened below ground. The flat surface was broken by some larger rocks. In front of the duct’s opening three Cyber-soldiers stood guard. 

Astrid crawled next to Adams and the Doctor next to Andrew. As the Time Lord caught a sight of the aliens, he understood everything. The armour of the mechanised creatures resembled to those which he had seen this far but their helmet wasn’t the usual bucket-formed one. Instead of the traditional, dot-like eyelets, two, half palm-sized eyes took their places on the helmet which was unusually striated, making its appearance scary. It spookily reminded him of the martial masks, used by the Homo reptilia. The warriors were also slimmer than usual. A riffle laid on their right arm and a tube ran onto the holder on their hip from the weapon.

“What are these?” came out of his mouth involuntarily.

“Cybersilurians,” Andrew whispered.

“Homo reptilian,” the Doctor told him.

“Okay, okay, I know. But why do they look like this?”

“I’d have a suspicion.”

Meanwhile Adams, sniffling quietly, delved into his back pack, hoping that they weren’t sensed by the aliens. As he found what he was looking for, he breathed a sigh of relief. Within seconds, he kept a strange-looking pistol in his hand. Its barrel loomed blueishly.

“What is that?” the Doctor asked.

“Zhitter product,” Adams replied. “Earthly weapons don’t hit through their armour but this will. The problem is that we have to get closer to them.”

“Stay here, Sir!” Astrid suggested, her voice shaking. “I’ll deal with it.” She already found her own special gun.

“You can’t. I brought these people here, I lead the attack. And this requires me to be down there.”

“But I’ll go as well.”

“Alright, Astrid, come!” The two Torchwood agents’ eyes welded for a second. As if Adams wanted to say something else but then he cleared his throat. “Doctor, I’m sorry for not being able to arrest you.”

“Don’t bury yourself just yet, agent! We’ll survive this!”

“Captain!” Robert spoke back above his shoulder. “Open the cover-fire!”

It was as if time stopped for a moment.

Then the riffles and the machine guns sounded, the noises of these and the ringing of the bullets springing off the armours of the Cybersilurians filled the night forest.

The two Torchwood agents jumped and scampered towards the bottom of the cauldron, pulling their heads down not to be hit by Americans’ drift of bullets. They fired wildly towards the armoured aliens but it seemed they miscalculated themselves; this didn’t have effect on the mail.

The cyber-creatures weren’t inactive, either; they immediately aimed for their attackers and started to shoot. However, the fire from several spots could have disturbed them because they reacted uncollectedly and didn’t mean serious threat to the humans in the first moments.

Robert and Astrid jumped behind a couple of largish rocks to get out of the Cybersilurians’ sight. The Doctor chose this moment to go towards the bottom of the cauldron.

As he stepped downwards, avoiding the amicable and malignant bullets as well, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver. If his suspicion is true, then maybe he can modify the armour a bit for the others to scratch it. He wasn’t glad that he has to help in the killing of these creatures but he realised that he doesn’t have another choice now. The screwdriver whistled and it seemed that it succeeded. And what will happen when he comes down? He has some more seconds to find it out.

Adams fired his Zhitter pistol; the beaming missile bruised the chest-sheet of one of the Cybersilurians. The armoured lurched then turned towards Adams, lifting its wrist-gun to aim. Astrid couldn’t stand by as the creature rounds the rock giving shelter to Robert, so she jumped from behind her own dugout.

She lodged two bullets into the helmet of the alien threatening Adams, where of it turned slowly to stand face to face with the woman. Lucky for her, the other two was occupied by the bullets of the Americans. It seemed that the Doctor made a too good job because the earthly missiles also started to scratch the surfaces of the armours. She only had to deal with this one. And it shot at her. She felt as her cells slowly become permeable and as her clothes are whumped by the bullets. The series of eight clashed through her body, yet she still gasped. She felt pain what she shouldn’t have. And the venom came to her mind which the Doctor talked about. Her legs gave way and she fell to the ground when she still ran.

The Doctor suddenly came to a halt as Astrid fell, a couple of metres away from him. Adams’ face strained from anger while shooting at the Cybersilurian, which wounded the woman, as a mad man. The missiles hit through the helmet and cooked the remaining synapses, sizzling. The armoured body dropped jerkily.

The man immediately appeared next to his partner. The Doctor wanted to start towards them but his notice was escaped by the cyber-creature moving towards him. He quickly pulled down before a series, throwing himself straight before the armour-boots.

Two American soldiers saw the Time Lord’s tight situation. The machine-gunned one aimed his gun onto the armoured creature then took a grenade from his belt.

“Will you catch it, Shifty?” Ramirez shouted through the crackle of the weapons.

“Of course!” Powers yelled back.

Ramirez threw the grenade to the direction of the Cybersilurian’s helmet. Powers waited. As the grenade got in front of the helmet, Powers shot and it exploded, almost tearing to two pieces the mask resembling to the scary face. Then the machine-gun barked up, the bullets sped in the scar and tore through the nerve system. This armour also tumbled.

The pressure of the explosion pushed the Doctor to the ground, pressing the air out of his lungs. After lights didn’t flash in front of his eyes, he saw Adams, who was trying to pull Astrid away, and the Cybersilurian nearing them. It was hit by a series of bullets, something banged out on its forearm, freeing a soft spray escaping into the air. As it reached the surface of the snow, it slowly burnt itself through the layer, blacking the yellow blade of grass.

He wanted to shout but he didn’t have any dischargeable breath. And he caught the sight of Andrew, who wanted to help in dragging the woman away, running towards the Torchwood agents.

The Time Lord didn’t know why the boy does this but he was sure that Andrew runs into his death. He saw the cyber-warrior, lifting its arm to shoot, he saw as the bullets speed towards Andrew and he saw as the boy falls onto Astrid.

And he felt the fog engulfing his mind, the searing anger. Someone died again, a person who he was responsible for. He made a family incomplete again who won’t know why their loved one didn’t get back home.

He pushed himself off the ground, the screwdriver appearing in his hand which started to scream terrifyingly. The Cybersilurian lifted its hand to its head then fell back, still pushing its armour-gloved hands to its helmet. The weapons fell silent. The soldiers started towards the last alien, aiming at it with their riffles. They couldn’t take a risk.

The Doctor appeared next to Andrew.

For his biggest confusion, the boy stood from the ground. Apart from the shock he didn’t have any distress, didn’t have any injuries. The Doctor didn’t see any trail of bullets, either. He helped the boy up who dusted himself. Then the Time Lord stepped next to the remained Cybersilurian.

The armoured creature lifted its helmet at him.

“The Sisters are alive,” it creaked on a rough machine voice. “The Sisters are alive. Assignment finished.”

“What assignment?” the Doctor asked.

“The footing is laid. Upgrading is possible.”

“What is it talking about?” Andrew murmured.

“You got the footing from the Nayads, did you?” the Time Lord inquired.

“Yes.” As if the Cybersilurian noticed the people around it just now. “They have made upgrading possible. The Sisters are alive.” Its voice started to weaken. “The order is clear. Upgrading is possible.”

“Is this all it knows?” McClung growled. “Let’s shoot it down!”

“Not yet!” the Doctor lifted his hand. “What do the Nayads want to achieve?”

“Upgrading is possible. Expansion is possible. We will upgrade everything to a better version. The eternal prison will open. Reality will be torn into pie…ces.” Its head tilted forward.

“It’s over.” Winters summarised. “Let’s get inside.”

The five-membered troop, with the Doctor and Andrew, walked into the cave, keeping their weapons in hand. The Time Lord gave a sad look to the man kneeling next to Astrid.

 

Robert placed his ear onto Astrid’s chest, trying to hear her palpitation. He heard the beating heart but the woman wasn’t breathing. He carefully pressurised her chest then leant closer to the woman’s face. Not a breath escaped through her nose. He repeated pressing down once again but this time, he stuck his moth onto Astrid’s lips to blow some air into her mouth. However, as their lips touched, Astrid’s eyes sprung open. 

Adams recoiled and looked at his partner, suspiciously.

“You kept your breath back?” he asked.

Astrid turned red in bewilderment. She turned even redder as the man leant closer to her again.

“Then keep it back for a bit more!” Their lips touched again but this time they kissed.

 

The Doctor turned pale when he saw what they found in the cave. 

Eight Homo reptilia bodies lay on eight wall-attached operating tables. The earlier inhabitants of the Earth’s surface were converted in a large measure; their bodies were significantly expelled by the cybernetic casing. But the tables were inactive now. The Doctor quickly scanned them with the sonic and wasn’t surprised by the result.

“Sisters!” he said in a subdued tone. “They few, they happy few, they band of sisters!”

“Henry couldn’t have said this better!” Winters nodded. “So the robot was talking about them.”

“Yes. They fought for their sisters on their strange, involved way.”

“And what happens next?” the Captain asked.

“We’ll blow the place up,” Adams yelled.

The Torchwood agent neared them slowly because Astrid reclined upon him and she was smiling in an inexplicable manner. She was smiling continuously. The Doctor could still imagine why.

“It will be a nice firework!” Private Marsh whooped.

The soldiers seemed to be loose; they were through the hardest part.

“We can’t do anything else, Doctor!” Robert said. “These are dangerous and if they are done, deadly. Look at them! Death is redemption for them.”

“Don’t explain!” The Doctor waved him down. “Do it! I’ll wait for you outside. Andrew?”

“I’m going with you!” the boy spoke and ran after the Time Lord.

“Well, do it, boys!” Winters’ commanding tone was a bit sudden. “Scatter the explosive then let’s go back before the Fritzs find us!”

 

The next morning, in the middle of the forest, the Doctor and his companion stood at the TARDIS, accompanied by the two Torchwood agents and the Captain. The soldiers celebrated their happiness like they did on other occasions: they drank. However, Winters didn’t accept the drink which was offered to him by Nixon, the reconnoitring officer happily mopped up himself. They wrote their reports, reported to the Depot: a patrol went to the other side but didn’t find Germans." 

Astrid wasn’t seriously hurt; thanks to her modified cell structure, the Silurian venom didn’t cause her permanent damage. She stood next to Adams now who put his head onto her shoulder with pleasure.

“I was glad to meet you, Doctor!” he offered his hand to the Time Lord. “Andrew!”

“Thank you for saving me from the bullet!” Astrid shook the boy’s hand.

“Don’t forget, Commander,” the Doctor spoke, “you give the orders!”

“I won’t. It seems I’ll write a false report as well.” He winked at Winters. “You know, Captain, you got an insight into a really interesting world. If you’d like to join, we’ll have a place.”

“No, thank you! The construction of a life waits for me after the war. As it waits for every one of us.”

“I thought you’ll say this.” Adams put his hand into his pocket and took a tiny box from it then gave it to the Captain. “I liked how you protected your men. Maybe this can help you. I was glad to meet you, Major!”

With this, the two members of the Torchwood Institute made their way through the snowy forest towards the base of the Depot where the jeep was waiting for them to take them back to Great Britain.

Winters nodded as well and started back towards Haguenau.

“How does he do this?” the Captain murmured to himself.

The Doctor gave a glance to the leather holder which he got back from the new Major then put it into his pocket and got into the TARDIS with Andrew.

“So, the Nayads…” the boy started.

“Yes. Cybermen were only able to convert humans so far. Now they are able to convert other species but lost their modern weaponry and armour. The Nayad deal is a bad business!”

“What eternal prison did it mention?” Andrew asked. “It sounds like the Pandorica.”

“Maybe it thought about that.”

“Would the Nayads have their hands in this?”

“Imaginable. It would explain how the Nestene Consciousness could make that perfect Autons. It would be in favour of them if reality would be torn apart.”

“Talking about Autons… You thought me to be one of them?”

“I got a call from you, in which you needed help.” The Doctor decided that he starts at the beginning. “But when I got to you, there weren’t any attackers. Then the TARDIS broke, a soldier died next to you but the Homo reptilia couldn’t…” his tongue got stuck, “kill you… How could I be this blind?” he exclaimed. “Stupid!” he slapped his forehead. “But it’s so apparent.” He took the sonic which proved his theory. “Deflective field. Deflective field!”

“What is that?”

“An ingenious bounty hunter trick! They don’t grab for the victim. As if there would be a bubble on you. There isn’t but imagine there is! It absorbed the bullets and emitted it in an earlier moment. That was what killed the Private, that’s why you didn’t die. This time anomaly was what confused the TARDIS.” He paused. “But it deflects radio waves as well, you not to be hit by the wave gun. I’m sorry, Andrew!”

“So I’ll be attacked sometime.” The boy swallowed but wasn’t scared that much.

“I’m surprised, Andrew!” the Doctor spoke with surprising honesty. “Somewhere you faint from a bang of a pistol, somewhere you cut through a bullet storm to save someone. Or through the fire of the Nursing Home,” he added.

“Well, yes, I’m your partner,” Andrew put a hand into his hair. “I can’t fear forever.”

“You’ll learn this. And don’t worry, Andrew McAllistair! I’ll be there when your attacker comes. I’ll save you.”

The boy only nodded. And the Doctor pointed the sonic at him to try to reduce the deflective field’s strength for the spaceship to start. The endeavour was rewarded by the flash of the control panel. The ship restarted.

 

The Doctor watched from the TARDIS’s door as Andrew runs to the door of their house. He started his day just like this, he reminded himself, but he was watching Clara this way. However, before he closed the spaceship’s door, he noticed the flash of a pair of eyes. 

He turned there and saw a face as it vanishes into the shadow. He was watching to no avail, it didn’t appear again. He carved the face into his mind to identify it when they meet next time. Then he stepped back into the box to find the appropriate date when Andrew is attacked and save the boy. He can’t make a mistake this time!

 

_The Doctor has failed to save him_

_Because the TARDIS was nastily tricked._

_The attacker was fast and took Andrew away_

_Onto a planet where the boy has to play_

_A deadly game waits him, where there's no thing to achieve_

_But he will get help by a relative._

_And who was the man in the cloak of shadows?_

_Maybe the answer will also be known._


	9. Doctor Mini - The Last Day

’The doorbell is broken again…’

At least every sign shows this. Robert Adams, the leader of the Torchwood Institute’s second base was thinking about this while he was running through Glasgow’s streets, hunting for an alien.

‘If it would work, then these monsters wouldn’t rush onto us with the door.’

Adams’ life consisted of days like these since he knew his mind. He was bored, very bored of the constant frisking, the continuous danger. Although he was sure that he wasn’t alive before he joined Torchwood. To be honest, he was fed up with the Institute, especially with the London base which was responsible for the control. The Londoners were responsible for notifying them before a monster like this rushes into the Scottish capital but they didn’t do it. They just sat home, sipping at their tea and categorise their collection of alien objects happily. The work always remained to the others.

“That’s it, I see it!” Walter Drew’s wine-favoured voice clang in the headphone. “It just got through the bridge.”

“Which one?”

“The Victoria. It goes straight towards you.” The tool creaked.

Adams clenched his teeth as the noise went into his auditory ducts. He almost couldn’t stand tearing Drew’s patchwork out of his ear. Walter was the specialist of the base, the handyman. He had an incredible sense for technological things, not to mention how adeptly he handled unearthly technologies. Adams, in the World War, saw mobile phone-flouted radios which were able to allow wireless connection. Compared to those, Drew’s invention was light years ahead.

Although it was evening, lots of automobiles stampeded on the streets for those who sit in them get home sooner. And all of them will be witnesses. Adams wasn’t glad about this but he already experienced that when they looked for those who appeared on alien hunting places didn’t remember the events. As if their memories were erased.

And because of the alien chose one of the busiest streets for the parade, there will be lots of witnesses. Robert stopped on the footpath and stared to notice the alien. Yes, it comes on Gorbals Street, luckily on the pavement. Maybe it didn’t want to generate unnecessary work for itself with throwing away the vehicles. It seemed intelligent.

Firstly he only saw its silhouette in the cars’ and street lamps’ light, but the creature slowly started to appear in its full form. It was squab but bigger by half than a human. Judging by the sparkling, armour-sheets covered its front, its back, its limbs, in point of fact, all of its body. On its head, the armour almost ran until its flat nose, its inquiring eyes probed the Scottish city’s streets from under the armour’s edges.

‘As if a tortoise and a gorilla were put together.’

Then the creature noticed the man watching it.

Adams also saw the creature’s change of direction. He started to retreat while taking his loyal pistol from his belt. This weapon serves him for a very long time, for almost twenty years. He was using it in the World War as well.

‘Yes, the World War…’

He lived through one of the most decisive experience of his life in that bloody hell. All his life, he thought himself to be a good soldier but never a good leader. He was adept in carrying out orders, not in giving them. And so if he did query one of them, still carried that one out like the one he completely agreed with. And then he got to know the Doctor. Or rather, him as well.

The more relevant thing is that he met Captain Winters. He saw the thing in the American which makes a man a leader. How the Captain cared about his men, how he didn’t send them to death just because the order said hat, opened Adams’ eyes. And the first time in his life, the agent didn’t fulfil an order. His suspicion proved right: the Doctor isn’t injurious as Torchwood’s founder warrant says. So he let the Time Lord go, didn’t arrest him; and no one knows about this adventure except him and his partner, Astrid Gresham.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed as a grey Aston Martin flew towards him, tooting wildly. He jumped away from the falling car which clashed into the ground with its nose, the first bumper extruded up to the windscreen. The vehicle landed on its roof and its driver immediately tripped himself to sneak out of the wreckage somehow. But Robert wasn’t interested in this because the alien went towards him, throwing the cars away from its path. Surprisingly strong.

“Is the trap ready?” he asked.

“Of course, Commander!” the reply came.

“I’m heading that way!” He changed frequency. “Walter, connect me to the base!” Following a quiet click, he shouted into his microphone. “Quentin, can you hear me?”

“…you, Boss!”

“Are you sure?”

“…red perc…” The signal crackled again. “But it’s better now,”

“How is Astrid?” Adams didn’t try to coerce the worry in his voice.

“She’s a strong woman, she sticks it!”

“Don’t beguile me, Quent, tell me the truth!”

But he didn’t hear the answer; the alien arrived in front of him. It smote towards him with its clawed paw; Adams could barely bend but one of the claws stuck into the earphone’s string which connected it to the battery and took them with it. Almost along with Adams’ ear.

Robert, while straightening up, pointed his pistol towards the creature and fired. The bluishly glittering missiles hit the alien on its chin but didn’t finish it off. He didn’t expect anything else. But it gave him enough time to get to the brown scooter which rested in one of the alleys. He jumped onto the saddle, ignited and opened out the throttle. The creature noticed the ear-splitting roaring and the cloud of smoke. As he hoped, the enraged alien followed him. And he also hoped that if someone still walks this late, that person can jump away as well!

‘I hate to be the bait.’

He was speeding opposite the circulation, the lamp lights seemed to be lines. He tried to stay on the pavement for the creature not to scathe other cars. He tried to concentrate to the creature chasing him but his mind was all abroad. He was thinking about Astrid. Since he got to know her, loved her but he didn’t admit this to her, not even himself. He didn’t believe in love, not like that he slowly realised that the woman would love him back if he would admit his feelings. And Astrid almost had to die for them to find each other. He didn’t want to believe that they were together for this much time, not to mention, next to this job. It’s a miracle that they stayed alive so far but both of them were survivors. Torchwood 2’s only permanent members.

But he could only trust Quentin Collins’ proficiency now. The eccentric, sarcastic Irish doctor worked with them for four years as a medical officer and anatomist. He gave the ‘doorbell’ name to the London group because a same model was tied to his parents’ house: didn’t ring when it was needed.

A park appeared on the other side of the road. The trap was waiting them there. He saw a rarefaction in the line of cars so he turned to the right with the motor to cut through the avenue. A driver pushed the horn nervously as the motor sped away in front of him but changed reverse as he saw the alien as well. Not a car was harmed.

Adams glimpsed the armoured jeep parking in the middle of the park. The vehicle was from the Glasgow’s plant but the huge weapon which adorned its roof and stared straight at him was from the third base. Just like its operator.

The alien came to Earth through Cardiff’s space-time rift but the third base couldn’t restrain the newcomer and it started towards Glasgow. The Cardiff team didn’t know where it treads because they didn’t have the equipment to follow the creature yet, they could only locate the destination. And that was in Glasgow, to be exact hung from Robert’s side. This creature, the report from Cardiff named it Litt, lives with the Zhitter species on the same planet and their relation is malignant. This conflict is so old between them that these beasts learnt to sense the energy-imprints of their rivals. Which were still on the weapons.

However, the people on the third base realised this much later so only this weapon and its operator arrived in the last moments through that teleportation pad which is developed on the second base for two decades now. Dangerous for human life, it can only teleport objects safely. But the guy overtook that he comes through with it. And there wasn’t time for setting up a trap outside the city.

He waved to the man who started to aim with the enormous firearm. But the motor suddenly came to a halt. The beast caught it from the back.

Adams swung his leg over the scooter and jumped off of it when the Litt lifted it. He started to run towards the jeep when the scooter, still spitting smoke, flew away above his head and crashed into the armoured vehicle’s nose, flinging the car. The guy from Cardiff lost his balance; the weapon pointed at the ground.

Adams got to the car and climbed onto the bonnet. The Litt neared him from the direction of the boot. The guy from Cardiff stood up, grinning but the Litt’s clawed palm locked onto his head and pulled him out through the open roof then floored him. The sound of breaking bones and vertebrae echoed in Adams’ mind.

‘This could hurt!’

Robert jumped to the weapon, knowing that he has a couple of seconds to realise how it works. The riffle moved easily on the sole, so he turned it towards the Litt. He found the button at last which, according to his theory, unchains the devastating force. He pushed it while gazing into the Litt’s bloodshot eyes.

And he saw as the greenish ray coming out of the weapon pecked a hole between the creature’s eyes. As the lifeless heavy weight dove onto the car, the vehicle shook. A wave of relief ran through Adams; he’s through the easier part of the night.

He jumped from the car and stepped next to the guy from Cardiff.

The chap’s long military coat fell onto his head, a Webley hung from his belt and his military boots sparkled brightly as if they were cleaned just now.

‘He got stuck in the War.’

Adams crouched next to him, waiting to happen the thing he heard that much about. The body moved.

‘Unbelievable.’

Adams reached to take the trench coat off the man’s head who tried to push himself into a sitting position.

“Are you alright, Harkness?”

“Of course, never better,” the man spoke, crunching his neck and still grinning. “But it hurts desperately!”

“That grin can’t be wiped off your face, can it?”

“Try it!” Harkness stood up, dusted himself off like a popinjay and fixed the coat. “I’ll drive.”

 

Twenty minutes later Robert hurried over the base’s corridors; he almost jumped out of the car on the way but left Harkness to park the vehicle. He ran past Walter’s workbench but he wasn’t interested in the chaos on it. He wasn’t interested in anything now. Except Astrid.

He stopped opposite the operating theatre’s door but didn’t sit down. He was walking to and fro, letting off his nervousness. Then his eyes fell onto the mirror hanging from the wall. He never understood why Quentin held onto it. But he looked into it now and he was surprised by the face looking back at him.

He grew much older since he admitted his feeling to Astrid. More wrinkles, darker eyes and some grey hairs appeared in his hair. He was wearing newgate frill but the woman didn’t mind it at all. He stroked his beard now while he quoted his last talk with Astrid.

‘I will always love you.’

He told her this back then. This was what he confesses even today. His nervousness grew and grew until he heard he door’s creak. Quentin’s burning red hair appeared and the man stared at Adams through his thick-framed glasses.

“It’s over,” he said while he took the medical gloves off his hands.

Robert felt as his eyes fills up with tears. He put his hands in front of his face and slowly rubbed his face over with them.

‘This can’t be.’

Quentin stepped out of the way for Adams to step in. The medical tools lay on a carriage in there. A bloody apron was pushed on top of them. But he didn’t care about any of it, just went forward. He pulled away the curtain which separated him from Astrid.

And there she was. She was lying peacefully on the hospital bed; unearthly calmness rushed over her face. How lovely she looked like this. Beautiful.

‘This can’t be. But it did happen!’

Astrid looked at him, her smile becoming even wider. She looked blissfully happy.

“Hi!” she whispered.

“Hi!” Robert leant close to her and kissed her forehead then her lips.

Robert’s eyes slipped lower, down onto the swaddle held in the woman’s arms. The cloth almost hid it but he caught a glimpse of the tiny, pink head and eyes closed for sleeping.

“This can’t be!” he repeated the sentence which was rang in his thoughts for a hundred times. “It’s so beautiful!”

“Yes, it is.” Astrid gave a loving look to the baby. Their baby. “And it did happen!”

“Oh, it comes to my mind!” Quentin’s grinning face appeared at the door. “It’s a boy!”

Robert looked down at the infant. He never hoped that he can get a part in this happiness. The family is whole at last.

Astrid’s modified cell structure always forestalled this so far but the providence was gracious to them at last.

Next to Quentin, Walter and Harkness also appeared. The guy held a tiny plush bear in his hand. He stepped to Robert, shook his hand and lay the teddy bear next to Astrid onto the bed.

“Drew wanted to give it to you but I couldn’t leave this out,” he explained. “May I?” He looked at Astrid.

“If you insist…” Robert shook his head waggishly.

Harkness kissed Astrid’s face.

“Congratulations, mummy!” he spoke as he stepped back.

“Thank you!” Astrid blushed. Yes, she became a mother at last.

“I also congratulate you, Commander!” Harkness raised his hand to salute. “Let me be the last who calls you like this!”

“Thank you, Harkness!” Robert returned the salute. “I mean, Captain. I heard that you stick to it.”

“It can be Jack for you,” the guy grinned.

“Well, Robert, I will miss you!” Quentin stepped to him.

The medic was followed by Walter.

“It was a pleasure, Robert. It will be different without you. You two.”

“I think so,” Robert nodded. “Thank you, boys! Jump in sometimes!”

“You know, Robert, it doesn’t happen to everyone,” Jack spoke. “Thereupon, remember this!” He reached his hand for a handshake once again.

 

‘I became a father. A father! Only Astrid, my son and me. No more Torchwood. Is there anything better? No. This is how the last day can end!’


	10. Deathrace, Part One

This was what Andrew first sensed. It was dark, depressingly dark. The air was stale, full of fear. He wasn’t alone. He sat on something, clogged between two other people. As his eyes accustomed to the dark in some degree, he saw silhouettes around himself, human forms. The room was full of people and sometimes shook as if it would move on some kind of rail and be thrown into the air when it runs onto the joints.

He tried to move but had to experience that he was cuffed: his legs to the bench and his hands next to himself. He heard the dreadful snuffle of the people around him, no one said a word. He was frightened as well, terrifically dreaded. He didn’t know what waits for him; he was only sure in that he can’t expect the Doctor’s help this time.

Two weeks ago, when they got back from the war-hit Haguenau, the Doctor told him that he will be attacked. He didn’t know when but was sure in the fact of the attack. Surprising himself, this period didn’t pass in constant fear; maybe he was calmed by the thought of that the Time Lord gave his word on hurrying for his aid at the proper time. He wasn’t negligent of the bounty hunter threatening him who installed the deflective field onto him but he didn’t panic. And he succeeded in hiding all of this from his mother. But he did regret that he didn’t say anything to Stephanie; he didn’t know how to do that. He should have warned her.

But the Doctor couldn’t keep his promise, didn’t arrive on time. However, the bounty hunter wasn’t late. How could this happen?

 

The doorbell rang. And Andrew opened the door.

A man stood on the other side of the door who was taller than him with a couple of centimetres and with busted legs. As if he would prepare for a duel on the Wild West.

Suspicion roused immediately in Andrew in connection with the guy. What could wake his suspicion? Maybe the strange pose, maybe the stranger clothes: the vivid red coat with two rows of white stripes on it, the tight leather trousers, the high-legged boots; he looked like some kind of ringmaster in a circus. Then the revolver case hanging from his belt and the pistol springing into the guy’s hand made it clear: he has to ran, the man came for him.

He shut the door in front of the man while he was thinking about where he can hide. No matter how many times he played hide and seek in this house, he doesn’t have any good idea! The garden would be the most rational solution, he would be able to escape from there onto the street and maybe he could shake the man off somewhere. But what sense would it make? He would have to come home sooner or later and the bounty hunter will wait him here.

He has to inform the Doctor, he saves him, he promised. Andrew scampered towards the stairs but the man already kicked the door in. Two sizzling bullets flew in his direction. Before they whooshed next to his ear he already felt that these will get through the deflective field. This is the man who’s responsible for the field. And now he came for the prey.

Andrew closed his eyes in fright but the missiles didn’t hit him. However, this much inattention was enough for him to bump into the antique clock standing next to the stairs and overthrow it. The orbs lashed into the wall, burning two tiny holes and the clock clashed to the ground with a deep clunk. Glass shards dispersed onto the floor, clattering, the pendulum bent, the body of the clock cracked, shards flew in the air. Hearing the noise, Stephanie’s face appeared in the kitchen door.

“Back!” Andrew yelled at her while jumping onto the first step.

Although the bounty hunter noticed the girl, didn’t lavish a bullet on her. Steph jumped back behind the door. In this moment, a tiny orb appeared in the man’s hand which he threw after Stephanie. The strange object glided through the slowly closing gap. Andrew only heard a static sputter. His mother wasn’t inside, was she?

The boy started to climb the stairs, careful not to dive in his big hurry. His mind was filled by the deep thuds which were created by him at first then his attacker and the horrible, sputtering sound. What could it be?

On the top of the stairs he turned towards his room, appeared in front of the door with three or four large steps and flung it open to step into his room.

‘He will catch me soon. He’s behind me and will catch me.’ The thought stifled everything else. His body protested against the sudden exertion.

Andrew almost didn’t realise what he was doing as he searched the desk and the bedside table. At last, here’s the phone! He typed in the number and waited.

It was too late. The man kicked in the door of his room, the barrel of the pistol stared at him. Last chance!

“Doctor! Doctor!” he shouted into the phone, knowing that the Time Lord will listen to him. “Help me!”

His attacker came to a halt for a moment as he heard the Doctor name. Then he aimed at Andrew and fired.

The boy felt as the missile scratches his skin and, getting into the blood stream, dissolves to the acrid matter which nicked the wall’s plaster. It felt as if it flared up inside. Then the feeling of fervour faded, it was replaced by a dull numbness. The man didn’t want to kill, only sedate him.

While he fought for keeping his eyes open, he slowly toppled; the rest of his body failed to serve him. Andrew saw the bounty hunter’s boots in front of him and the man’s hand as he reaches down for the phone. Then he clasped the boy and started to drag him. If Andrew could have been able to rule his body, he would have grab hold of every way to balk his draught. But he watched helplessly as his socks’ heels slowly fray while the man pulls the boy easily after himself.

Where does the man take him exactly? – the question got into shape in his mind, thinking ejected the sedating effect a little. Who is he exactly? Now, as he thought back to the guy’s appearance like this, something started to loom: he resembles very much to John Hart from the series, Captain Jack Harkness’ former Time Agent partner. Would this be him?

Andrew’s train of thought stopped here; he caught a glimpse of something in front of him, although it was as hazy as if he would watch it through a pair of bad glasses. It was another man who surely wasn’t on the corridor before. He wore a dark blue uniform. His dishevelled, dark hair reached to his chin, the lower half of his face was hidden by a brown scarf but Andrew could still see a scar which ran on his left cheek until his forehead. He riveted his intent gaze on them. His eyes were familiar. Would Andrew hallucinate?

The respective held a long-barrelled riffle with a binocular, aiming straight at the bounty hunter’s nape. As the deadly-meant bullet flew out of the barrel, Andrew saw its flight in slow motion.

However, the bounty hunter, as if he sensed it with some kind of strange sixth sense, jumped to the side in the last moment, pulling the boy after himself. He jinked himself through a door, with Andrew landing on the bathroom’s blue-white tiles. The boy didn’t feel pain.

The guy can be another bounty hunter who also moves in on the prey, just didn’t get here on time. Just like the Doctor.

As Andrew lay on the tiles dazedly, he saw Hart who was sulking to the door frame. The man snapped out the arsenal of his pistol and changed its contents to newer ones. He leant over for a moment but jumped back immediately. He tried once more but a bullet made him hide again.

“The sheikh’s hand moves fast!” he said, half fretting and half appreciatively.

Admitting his tight situation, he didn’t try another jump but started to fiddle with the gadget buckled to his right arm. His gaze became more and more cloudy.

“Come on, tripe!” he yelled at the machinery. “Charge!”

Because it seemed the tool needs more time to operate with full power, he decided that he’ll use another function which needed little energy. He aimed at the boy with it then started to set something up.

Andrew didn’t feel anything from all this. However, Hart stepped to him, caught him and jerked him towards the door. He took in as his body falls through the door and saw as the bullet from the stranger’s riffle speeds towards him.

The missile made for his chest then vanished. Andrew didn’t understand it; no bullets appeared suddenly these days like earlier when he was shot. The thought just got into shape when the bullet, where it vanished, appeared again but made for the man this time. That jumped away quickly not to come by his death by his own bullet.

Hart could have modified the field’s function, he drew a conclusion.

In the same moment the Time Agent’s relieved outcry sounded. He appeared behind the boy instantly and clutched his shoulder. He sent a triumphant grin in the direction of his opponent who tried to jockey into niche again. The Agent pushed a couple of buttons on the arm-buckled device.

Andrew’s stomach started to churn, his bones wanted to get out of his body. Every part of him wanted to escape from its original place.

Then reality creased and the mysterious man could only the empty corridor in front of him. Andrew and Hart vanished.

 

The boy woke up here, in this dark, muggy, jolting container. Now, as he thought back at his kidnapping, still didn’t see any sense in all of this. He still couldn’t believe that this happens to him of all people. He stopped counting how many times he regretted that he met the Doctor. Probably lots of times.

The jolting suddenly stopped. Old machines creaked bitterly.

The room became filled with dreadful rustling. It was too quiet to be understood. Someone started to sob. It seemed like, as Andrew, no one else knows what’s next.

Then everything was stifled by a sibilant voice which sounded in every pace of the room. Andrew soon realised what that is: someone pumps in gas. He felt as he starts to become dazed again. They sedate him again. This can’t be true!

 

Andrew carefully opened his eyes. He wasn’t surprised on that he’s not in the container. Bright, white light covered everything; it was unusual after the darkness. His hands touched warm paving. He carefully moved his limbs; they were still numb.

He slowly got on his feet. When he didn’t feel dizzy, looked around.

He was standing on the street of a town, the weather was nice. He saw tiny, angular, white walled houses which crossed regular streets. The streets were covered by cobbles and narrow conduits ran on the road’s two sides. Grey, antique stationary lamps were spaced out equally next to the road.

The buildings seemed to be houses but he could see into some of them through huge shop windows. They were empty. He couldn’t see trees anywhere and there weren’t any potted flowers on the balconies. The place was defunct.

The sunlight thrilled Andrew. He was now listening to the whispers. He took his eyes away from the houses and saw dozens of people not far from where he stood. He made his way towards them while trying to exile the emergency sirens sounding in his mind. He had a very bad intuition. He was all of a sweat about the dead town.

As he got nearer, Andrew could observe the other captives. In general, they could be at the same age with him, boys and girls. He didn’t see old people or adults, all of them were young, not more than twenty years old. They wore different clothes, some of them were seedy and some of them were elegant. Maybe they were kidnapped as well as him. After all, he was wearing the same clothes in which he was caught.

He moved his toes in the socks. He didn’t feel cold. But their heels really did wear away.

He heard the others talking but didn’t understand a word. What he thought at first was that too much people chatted at once. Then he realised: they don’t talk in English. To be precise, the language didn’t remind him of any of the Earth’s languages.

He was on an alien world and he has no chance, without the TARDIS’ translation program, to make himself understood. This made him more frightened than anything.

The crowd slowly grew as newer and newer youngsters arrived, with dread on their faces. The same dread which expression Andrew thought he has on his own face. Watery eyes, tear-smeared faces, limbs thrilling with fear. Everyone was frightened and maybe this was what they tried to conceive.

Then came the silence. The youngsters fell silent. A voice spoke, stronger than everything. It came from the speakers. Whoever is the talker, they succeeded in silence everyone immediately. Although Andrew didn’t understand a word, the speech still took a reassuring effect somehow. Fright was replaced by hope on others’ faces as well.

But the respective, a man on the score of his voice, changed tone. He didn’t threaten but he reminded Andrew of Mr Kramer, the History teacher. He speaks exactly like this when he calls their attention to the circumstances of black marked exams.

So he put the reward first and now the punishment.

The man fell silent but the voice still fumbled in Andrew’s ears, it was simply enticing.

Then a tiny shake ran over the ground and a pillar rose out of the ground with a longish display on top.

Andrew saw surprised as it shows Arabic numbers, or rather their futuristic version. The display was a clock and told of noon.

A deep horn sounded which filled everything and the numbers started to twirl. The clock counted back. At the same time, a gap opened on the pillar and dozens of sheets flew out of it. The youngers started to jump and snatched at the slips of paper which lazily made for the ground in the lull. As a juvenile caught one of them, they took a look at it and started to run. Lots of people did he same without gaining any papers.

One of the sheets feathered towards Andrew, the boy snatched at it and took it into his palm. He smoothed it out to be able to study it.

It seemed that he keeps a map in his hand. The town’s map. However, the captions could have been written in the alien language because he couldn’t solve their meaning.

He felt a sudden push. While he swung backwards, a beefy boy took the map out of his hand. He started to grin maliciously and started to run. Andrew slowly stayed alone on the square.

“I didn’t need it anyway!” he yelled angrily after the boy.

He caught a glimpse of a crummy, pimple-faced lad who started his way with a red-haired girl who was taller than him. They had a map. Andrew decided that after his was taken away from him, he follows the couple; maybe they can easily act upon theirs. He didn’t know, what the game is going on about but he thought of it as some kind of competition. He didn’t have any idea about what the winner gets and what the loser. But he didn’t want to be a loser.

 

He could have been on the way for a long time.

Since the ‘competition’ started, he was lumbering in the trail of the couple from a relative distance. At the beginning he was afraid of that if they notice him, they react as aggressively as the boy who took the map from him. But for his relief, they didn’t show any interest in him. They were more occupied with conciliate the town and the map than with his presence. If they did notice him, they didn’t attend to him.

He didn’t know exactly how long he followed them. Although he sometimes caught a glimpse of a clock pillar, didn’t slow down to look at them; he didn’t want to lose sight of his ‘guides’.

The sun still shone as brightly as it did when they started their way. That probably could have been hours ago. His clothes stuck to him, wet from sweat; his trousers scoured him off and his heels were cracked by the paving. But he didn’t pay attention to the inconveniences; he was only interested in getting to the finish, wherever it is. He didn’t have any idea about what happened when the countdown expires. He was sure that it won’t mean any good.

Panting from the continuous strain, his thoughts slowly started to be surmounted by desperation. Did he do the right thing when he went after the boy and the girl? It’s not that he had a better idea back then or has one right now, but maybe he became lost for good because he followed them.

He tried to forestall the depressing thoughts but he wasn’t able to. The Doctor let him down and he should find a way home, alone on an alien world. What good is this stroll anyway? They are only running to and fro!

The couple just got to a smaller square where a waterless ruined fountain stood. The human-form statue, which was carved to decorate the well, had his head and one of its hands missing. It held a broken-tipped marble spear in its other hand.

A shot banged.

Andrew ducked instinctively but the target wasn’t him. The red-haired girl shrieked as the boy dropped next to her. She just stood numbly and screamed. She was in danger.

He mended his pace. Half a minute could have passed until he got near to the girl. He saw a tiny flash and he pushed the screaming girl away just on time from the way of the bullet which glanced off the fountain’s rim, sparking. The girl overcame with more dread as she stared at Andrew.

“Calm down!” he spoke but knew that the girl can’t understand it.

He looked at the boy, lying in a pool of blood. He was dead. However, the girl was watching him which was a good sign. Maybe the effect of shock was gone and he’ll be able to take her from the open space somehow.

“Come!” he caught the girl’s hand but she shook him off.

He bent down to the shot boy and freed the map from his hand. Andrew watched the point from where he saw the flash, maybe they have a luck once more to avoid a missile. He squeezed the girl’s hand again then shouted at her.

“Come on!”

The girl gave a start then stood up and let herself dragged away. Andrew only hoped that she understood his tone and that they’re in danger. They circled the fountain when the riffle sounded again. The bullet broke down the stem of the statue’s spear and, ricocheting, swung into Andrew’s shank.

Andrew threw himself to the ground at the feeling of dread and pain; the girl did the same. They were now in the hiding of the fountain.

Andrew pulled the holed trouser leg up to see the problem’s size. The wound was bloody but the bullet hit only flesh and left immediately. It hurt when he moved it but he thought that he can walk but he’ll limp. He tore off the leg of his trousers and bound it around the wound as tightly as he could. As he finished, he looked over his shank and noticed a couple of tinier wounds.

He started to smile bitterly and looked at the girl.

“Misadventurous leg! The Theron also picked this one…”

“Theron?” The girl’s voice was high and she still shook from excitement. It seemed that she identified the word. “Pluvia?”

“Yes,” Andrew nodded. He didn’t strike out how this helps on the cleft of communication but at least he could make the girl talk.

He was sure that the girl doesn’t understand him but maybe he can let her know something elemental. He thought back at the tales he watched as a child. If it worked, maybe it will work for him as well.

He slowly lifted his hand and poked himself with his thumb.

“Andrew.”

The girl looked questioningly then realised what the boy wants.

“Alea,” she repeated the movement which she saw Andrew make.

Well, he knows her name.

Alea lifted the map and held it in front of Andrew. The boy took a look at the sheet then shook his head, signalling that he can’t understand it. The girl looked at him, confused. Then something came into Andrew’s mind and reached his hand towards the girl and poked at the map. The girl smiled and gave him the paper. Andrew took stock of the map again, tried to recognise the place on it where they can be. If he doesn’t understand the captions, he can still identify the objects in the area!

He had to err in his hopes; the map was showing a recurring pattern: square-based houses, regular houses and little, round squares in the confluence of the roads. They could have come on any route. But, on the top of the map, there was a large, oblong illustration with a caption on it: maybe that’s the finish. He turned the sheet towards Alea and was pointing at the building’s picture.

The girl looked at the point then nodded. She didn’t speak, either; she already realised that they don’t understand each other. She poked the map with her finger and drew an imaginary line right until a square. This can be the assumed route.

Andrew took stock of the showed direction and looked around, maybe he can see something which would help them getting out. They’re in danger here, that’s for sure. Whoever shot at them isn’t that stupid to waste bullets until they are in a foxhole. They should elicit an unnecessary shot from him somehow and they could get into safety if they’re fast enough.

His kidnapping came to his mind: the other guy fired immediately as he caught a glimpse of Hart or Andrew. Is this shooter as nimble as the other was? If the field would still be on him, he would try to jump out but the wound shows that it isn’t. His life is at stake now. And the girl’s, as well. Neither of them can be a bait; one of them would die.

On the spur of the moment, he lifted his head to look over the fountain’s rim but ducked quickly. However, there wasn’t a flash, not a bullet came. He repeated the movement, nothing happened. The shooter, it seems, plays safe and doesn’t waste a bullet to shoot him in the head. The rifleman can’t aim trimly for that or doesn’t trust himself enough.

“Or he’s not a good shooter…” he started to smile wanly. “The first shot was a hit but they didn’t expect it,” he started to talk, maybe he can more easily see it through, “he shot at a standing target with the second one but when we were moving couldn’t hit us,” he stared at the broken end of the spear, “it only glanced off. Moreover, the time between shots is long; he loads or aims slowly.”

Andrew had to use this out. If one of them would rush towards the opposite house’s corner, then maybe they could bring him making a wrong-headed shot. And the other one of them would easily get through.

The girl’s smile became wider and wider as she watched Andrew. She defined the boy’s fervid talking as a good sign.

Andrew looked at Alea and clouded up a little. He has to go; he can’t send the girl. If he argufied amiss, she can still find out something else. He just has to inform her of the plan. But he doesn’t have the mode to do it.

She’s an intelligent girl, maybe she’ll realise. He took a deep breath and, as his stinging leg allowed, made a rush towards the shielding of one of the houses. He didn’t pay attention to the pain which was stabbing into him step by step. He heard as Alea exclaims from surprise. He counted the seconds in his mind, imagined as the rifle fires and he falls onto the cobbles, dead. But he had to try it.

The weapon banged.

And the bullet didn’t hit him.

He was possessed by a limitless relief. He spun in delight and started to wave to Alea to follow him. The girl nodded and started to run. As she got to Andrew, they ran along together, got to the corner and out of the sight of the shooter.

They only have to get to the finish.

 

Maybe one or two hours could have passed until they got near that oblong building. They heard gun-fight several times on the way but they were never targets. Andrew always thrilled those times; it was bad thinking that maybe someone stayed there after every shot, fallen onto the hot cobble, wounded or dead.

There was a clock on the building’s wall, as well which showed that they have only twenty minutes left. They were walking on the town’s streets for almost twelve hours!

Both of them were exhausted, tired and shattered. The enormous building almost filled their field of vision; its gate could have been a couple of metres high. The two thick gate wings were put onto rails which neared each other unhurriedly. The gate will be closed soon!

Form different directions, firstly feathering then more and more frequently came the ‘contestants’ and waddled through the gate.

Everyone was used up. Most of them came alone but he saw a blonde girl who helped a young, wounded boy.

So this was the objective: getting this far, surviving the shooters before time runs out.

“What kind of madness is this?” Andrew exclaimed involuntarily.

Alea looked at him and the boy shook his head quickly, signalling that what he said is irrelevant. They started towards the slowly narrowing gap with renewed force.

In this moment, a sparking laser-series cut suddenly over the place. Andrew and Alea threw themselves to the ground. The boy watched from a laying position as more and more laser missiles hit their targets. Someone took the last chance to shoot. Cries of pain and screams of death filled the square.

Andrew and the girl were lucky because the shooter didn’t pay attention to them; Alea jumped and also helped up the boy to reach the gate while the shooter fires at someone else. However, Andrew came to a halt: he noticed a boy who was shot but wasn’t in direct danger. Maybe he can be saved. Andrew squeezed Alea’s arm and pointed at the wounded kid. The girl’s eyes widened then extracted her arm from Andrew’s palm and rushed in the direction of the gate.

Andrew shook his head disapprovingly but didn’t blame the girl. It’s only his problem if he wants to play a hero. But why does he have to be one?

He started towards the boy while watching where the missiles are. When Andrew got there, bent down to him, reached under his arm and helped him up. The lad looked up at him with a grateful expression. Andrew escorted him towards the gate when he noticed the blonde girl nearing from the opposite direction. Her ponytailed hair swung from the left to the right, her T-shirt stuck to her swelteringly. She held something in her hand.

She ran past them and rushed out onto the square, into the laser-shower. She lifted the longish object in his hand and it suddenly released a green energy-canopy which absorbed the laser-rays. She went from person to person in the shelter of it.

She wants to help!

Andrew supported the boy to the gate then let him go on his own account. He turned to see how the girl is doing. The canopy became larger since then; the girl was followed by two other girls and a boy in its shadow. The shooter, as if they wouldn’t be able to do anything in their anger, concentrated every shot onto the canopy.

However, the device held on. The girl nodded towards Andrew, instructing him to go in as well. As he turned, realised that the gate’s closing sped up. They will be the last incomers; who comes after them, stays outside.

He ran in and found himself in a huge hangar. It was empty, just like the town. He saw tired and wounded youngsters everywhere who panted from exhaustion. The energy-canopy’s green light eye-hurting in the hangar’s semi-darkness. He looked at the blonde girl who turned the gear off; the hangar became darker.

The girl noticed him watching her. She swept a curl from his face and smiled at him. She started towards him while saying something which Andrew didn’t understand so he only shrugged as a reply.

Now, as excitement slipped away, tiredness suddenly poured onto him. He felt as his knees sink in and the pain stabbed into his shank again. He started in the dark to find a corner where he can sit down. He can’t have a company now, anyway. He took the last steps and let himself onto the ground. He rested his back against the hangar’s cold wall. He blinked a couple of times and noticed the blonde girl’s worried face above himself. But he didn’t care about it now. He just wanted to sleep.


	11. Deathrace, Part Two

Andrew roused to a tingling pain.

He didn’t feel it in his leg this time but in his neck. He snapped there and palpated a tiny disk. He ran his fingers over it and if he moved it, he felt a newer tingle. As if it welded to his skin. He got frightened so he let it alone instead.

He noticed the blonde girl opposite as she talks to a tall, dark haired boy. Or man. He couldn’t tell with complete assurance. The respective had his back on him and wore a rusty, grey armour. It reminded Andrew of something, he just didn’t know what. The girl now wore a loose, brown travelling robe. She looked like a child who tried her parents’ clothes on. Several sacks and bags lay not far from them.

“Because we didn’t have enough things to do, did we?” he heard the armoured’s deep voice. “You needed this as well!”

He understood them. For some reasons, somehow he understood what they’re talking about. It seemed that they’re arguing.

“It worked out like this…” the girl was on the defensive. “We can’t just leave him here.”

This time the girl also realised that he came to himself; she looked at him and started to smile. The armoured turned back as well and fastened his eyes on Andrew. They glowed redly.

‘Proclamator!’ a voice screamed in Andrew’s mind. That’s why the armour was familiar to him; he saw something like this on Pluvia. They wanted to finish him off last time. As his tired body allowed him, he got up and started to back from the nearing couple. He wanted to start backwards instinctively but the wall was there. He now cursed himself because he was able to corner himself.

“Clam down, Condemned!” the Proclamator spoke.

The girl smacked his shoulder.

“Don’t call him that! You scare him.” She appeared next to Andrew after a couple of steps.

The other stopped, didn’t want to come nearer. Maybe because he doesn’t want to spook Andrew better. The man implicated his arms in front of his chest.

“Please, don’t worry!” the girl started with a nice, calming tone. “We don’t want to hurt you.” When she saw that Andrew stops shaking, she continued more bravely. “Are you alright? High blood pressure, myasthenia, shivering, cramp, hampered respiration?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Andrew groaned. It came into sight that his leg doesn’t ache, either.

“Great!” the girl continued smiling. “What’s your name?”

“Andrew. Andrew McAllistair.” He slowly started to calm down. He didn’t know why but trusted the girl.

“Glad to meet you, Andrew McAllistair! I’m Jenny.”

Something started to fumble in the back of Andrew’s mind, just a foolish thought.

“Jenny who?”

The girl got confused for a moment. She mused.

“Only Jenny,” she shrugged. “This is it, only Jenny.”

Andrew started to smile tiredly. Would this be possible?

“She’s the only one in the universe who isn’t bothered by not having a surname,” the armoured stepped closer, grinning.

Now, as Andrew was able to see him better, he seemed to be young but was older than Jenny. But he couldn’t tell the girl’s age, either. However, he was less interested in their age than why he understands what they’re saying.

“How…”

“…can you understand us?” the man finished the question. “That disk on your neck,” he pointed at the device, “that makes it possible. It’s also connected to your vocal cords so it’s better if you don’t scratch it.”

Jenny pulled away the neck of her travelling coat to show that she also wears the same disk.

“We also wear one. It makes communication very easy.” She was still smiling. “He was who invented them,” she pointed backwards, at her partner. “His name is Vik Caim, by the way.”

The name cleaved into Andrew’s mind. The Proclamators’ leader was called Rai Caim, he was Teb’Sagro’s privy and responsible for cutting loose the substance which destroyed the Doctor’s memory. But the girl seemed sincere; her partner can’t be dangerous in point of him. Or can he?

“Caim?” He formed the question carefully.

“It can’t be!” the armoured exclaimed. “This kid also heard about him!”

“Vik, calm down! He surely didn’t mean it like that,” the girl tried to soothe her partner. “You didn’t mean like that, did you?”

“How?”

“Don’t play the fool!” Caim yelled at him. “Small talk’s over!” He clenched his fists and didn’t pay attention to Jenny’s deprecating look. “Let’s hear, who’re you?”

“What?”

“I’m curious about why the hell do you worth that much for Goron Ewvar?”

“For who?”

“What did you commit?” Caim’s predator-grin told about him enjoying the situation.

“I don’t know,” Andrew shouted. “I would be the happiest if I would know but I don’t.”

The conversation, which resembled to an interrogation, was interrupted by a quiet humming. All three of them turned in the direction of the sound.

A fist-sized, white, hovering Drone neared them. It stopped, whistling, in front of Andrew and looked him up and down with its tiny, blue sensors. The light changed to yellow and the device hovered on, unmoving. A little gap opened on its top and started to glow with a blue light. A miniaturised human-shape appeared in the form of a hologram. Andrew identified the respective as Hart.

“Hey, kid!” the tiny holo-man greeted him jauntily. “I hope there’s no anger! Nothing personal. I was in sore need of money, you can probably understand! I’m not your enemy. If this message gets to you alive, then I have a present for you: your communicator!” In this moment, another compartment opened on the Drone’s surface and the mobile phone slipped out of it. “Call your Doctor or whatever you want! You won’t see me anymore!” He started to grin then the image vanished.

Andrew held the mobile in his hand. Its touch felt somehow so calmingly to him. So there’s hope for him to get home alive. The Drone gave a short whistle, fluttered to the ground and turned off.

“How did he mean that your doctor?” Jenny grabbed hold of his shoulder.

Andrew looked into the girl’s eyes. His suspicion seemed to prove true.

“On the same way you think,” he told her quietly.

“You know the Doctor?” Jenny’s look seemed to shine. “You know him?”

“Yes. We had a couple of adventures together.”

“Hooray!” The girl suddenly hugged Andrew in her happiness. “Is he alright? He does always the same, doesn’t he? Saves civilisations, fights monsters and runs, runs a lot, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, something like that!” Andrew whimpered in the girl’s hug.

“Why does he interest you?” Caim was surprised by the running of things; he was touched badly by the sudden change of the topic.

Jenny let go of the boy, her face clouded up a little.

“He’s my father,” she said reluctantly.

“What? You’re kidding, right?” He started to grin but seeing the seriousness in the girl’s eyes, he knew that it’s not like this. “It can’t be!”

“Vik, this doesn’t mean anything! You can’t do anything about it, you know that,” Jenny appeared in front of her partner who seemed very vulnerable now; the predator didn’t show itself anywhere. “I knew who you are and didn’t care. It’s not your name which defines you!”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Vik was able to press only this much out of himself.

“I knew that you’d react like this. Look, let’s solve this then we’ll talk this through!”

Caim nodded nervously but didn’t speak. And Jenny turned to Andrew who was watching the phone.

“So, Andrew, you can call Dad through that?”

“I could have.” The boy’s bitter voice gave away that something’s not right. “But there’s no signal. And this has to work everywhere.”

“Not here,” Vik mumbled.

“Why, where are we?”

“On New Earth,” Jenny replied. “To be exact, on New New New New New New New New Earth. Hold on!” She poked the air with her index finger as if she would count while puckering her lips, thinking. “Seven News, I said one more. So, on seven times New Earth.”

“Just like your father,” Andrew started to smile.

“What?” Jenny blushed. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” the boy shook his head. “But why doesn’t the mobile work?”

“We are in the depth of the Earth,” Vik took the word from her. “In a perfectly insulated, ambushed, incommensurable town.”

“But the sunlight…”

“Artificial. Like everything here. And just to have a place where the Deathrace can be kept.”

“The what?”

“The Deathrace,” the armoured continued. “The planet is overpopulated and there are more and more new-borns. Goron Ewvar came up with the solution, not officially, of course. In every five months about seventy thousand youngsters are kidnapped and brought here, at his order.”

“But why don’t they move from the planet?” Andrew interrupted. “I know I’m not from here but there are spaceships, aren’t there? Colonising ships or something like that.”

“There isn’t one. And this is the weirdest in all of it. They have the technology for that and they would need it. But there isn’t one. That’s why they are doing this, as I said.”

“And what kind of race is this? The winner can stay alive or what?”

“Kid, you’re very off the beam, you don’t understand the point. There’s no winner. Who gets here, dies. This isn’t a race but a shambles. It would be clearer if they would massacre each other, for food!” His red eyes glowed more brightly.

“Vik!” Jenny shouted at him.

“I’m right, you know it! Killing is an art and the art has to be respected! I can almost hear as the first zone is suffused by the gas, this isn’t fair! They don’t have any chance to fight for their own lives! If you fight, if you kill, do it clearly, face to face, with the same conditions!”

“Vik!”

“You know, what? I should go.” He took a helmet from one of the bags, put it onto his head and started towards the darkness.

“Vik!” the Doctor’s daughter yelled after him. “Don’t kill anyone, please!” She didn’t get an answer. “Vik!”

“If I don’t have to…” Caim’s voice sounded which crackled through the helmet’s speaker.

Jenny just stood stiffly, staring at the point where the shadows engulfed the armoured. A teardrop ran over her left cheek and she left it fall to the ground.

“Where does he go?” Andrew’s question bemused her.

“Back to the niche,” the girl breathed. “The game is the bounty hunters’ and mercenaries’ favourite parade ground. He got in among them.”

“So, who was shooting outside was a bounty hunter?”

“Yes, from the weaker class. The first zone is an easy ground; the ‘little fish’ can pay only this area’s tabernacle. The ‘hotshots’ are waiting for us in the second zone. In the second, every hit worth more because they have to forego the traps.”

“Traps?”

“Yes. The bests get rewards. And the main target of this race is you.” Her intent gaze reminded Andrew of the Doctor’s. “Ewvar could have given anything for finishing you off in his game. Maybe he also expects a reward from someone.”

“I imagine,” Andrew swallowed. “Maybe he made a deal with the Nayads,” he suggested.

“Nayads? I’ve heard legends about them. Who are they?”

Andrew tried to conjure up in his mind what the Doctor told him about them.

“Creatures from another spectrum of reality.” He said this as if he would recite a poem. “Their aim is to eradicate every living being and take over our place in this spectrum. Oh, and they gain servants by making deals. I became a target because of them,” he pointed at his head, “they want my death for some reason.”

“I wouldn’t believe that the Deathrace would be able to eradicate New Earth. This doesn’t have so much sense. But whatever is his aim, we have to stop him. They still kept too much of this. The original plan wanted to be that we get into Ewvar’s office, catching him.”

“How?”

“There’s an elevator in the second zone for the bounty hunters because they can come down into the town there. Vik secures the way and we go up with that. But now,” Jenny’s gaze brightened, “that your phone’s here, we can inform Dad. He surely knows the perfect solution.”

The girl stepped to the bags and took a little box from one of them, then held it towards Andrew.

“We shared out the most of it among the others.” She opened up the box. “Food concentratum.”

Andrew peeked into it. Tiny, multi-coloured cubes lay on the bottom of the container which seemed to be plastic.

“Go on, have one!” Jenny offered. “You’ll need strength, these will make good.”

The boy carefully reached for a cube, lifted it out and started turning it in front of his eyes. What he saw didn’t seem reassuring. In the end, he took a deep breath and engorged the concentratum. As it touched his tongue, he grimaced then chewed and swallowed as quickly as it was possible.

“It’s not the most delicious,” the girl smiled.

“That’s not an idiom,” Andrew coughed. “One of it is enough, right?”

“As you like.” Jenny closed the box and went back to the bags. She put the container away then took a sack with her. “There are clothes in this. You’re probably freezing and don’t have any shoes, either. Look around, maybe you can find something.”

Andrew was searching for some time until he found a pair of shoes and a coat. He put the coat around himself and put on the shoes. They were tight at first then started to ease and became completely comfortable.

“You brought all of this for the contestants?” the boy inquired.

“Yes, most of them are Vik’s own clothes. He won’t need them anymore but the contestants, as you call them, will. If this adds only a little to them survive for more, it did worth it. And we have to be as fast as we can for them to surely survive.”

“How do you mean that he won’t need them anymore?”

“Well, when we met… when was it? It could be about two years ago,” she mused. “Yes, it was then, four years after I left Messaline. So two years ago, on his impregnation to be a man. His family lives in shame since one of his ancestors, Rai Caim attempted assassination on Pluvia. Why are you nodding?” she got frustrated, seeing Andrew moving his head.

“I was there.”

“Oh!” Jenny started to smile. “He accomplished the test but Zhak traditions changed very much and didn’t tolerate Vik’s approach to fight.”

“Zhaks are warriors, aren’t they?”

“They are. They just don’t take fight for saint today. Vik was revolted by how much they ignore the rules of clear duel, so he left them. He was only left with what his ancestor left for his family: the armour and the shame.”

“But how could you stay together? As far as I know, you are as against violence as the Doctor.”

“Oh, how well informed you are!” the girl laughed. “Yes. And I try to teach the same to him. He’s my largest mission.” Her mind was all abroad for a minute. “But I didn’t succeed yet in two years,” she laughed again. “But it’s unarguable that Vik’s versatility makes it a lot easier when we try to make good. He was who cured your leg.”

Andrew looked down at his shank; the wound was already cleaned and covered with some kind of filmy substance. He didn’t feel pain at all.

“Unbelievable what he’s capable of!” Jenny breathed.

The hangar’s silence was broken by the same toot which Andrew heard in the morning.

“The second stage starts,” Jenny said the apparent. “Don’t drop behind because this will also be gassed like the first zone.”

Andrew started after her but came to a halt.

“What about the Drone?”

“You can bring it if you want! Put it into one of the bags and come!”

Andrew did as the girl ordered. He sank the little white robot, which brought the key of release, into one of the backpacks then put it onto his back. He knew that he’ll carry unnecessary weight but didn’t want to leave it here. It will be good for a souvenir. Then he rushed after the girl to face the further dangers. But he has a partner, at last. And a grim armoured also takes care of them from somewhere.

 

Vik watched from the overshadowed gallery as the mass of people pours out on the hangar’s door after hearing the toot. He saw as the bounty hunters, who he came with, load their riffles and search for a shooting position. Others polished hand arms, swords, knives and lounged next to the lift to get down onto the game field as soon as they can.

He took a little disk from his pocket and turned it on. It displayed the town’s holo-image with a green glow. The second zone was much more varied then the first line’s monotone buildings. Towers, sheds, dried-out plants. Everything which made aiming harder from the gallery.

His task is to help Jenny and the kid get to the lift. And this made him more worried. He knew that Jenny, doesn’t matter how much she’s against violence, would be able to defend herself in case of emergency. However, he wasn’t this sure about the boy’s abilities. He didn’t seem to be a soldier. Jenny’s genes were good, at least. A fearsome grin appeared on his lips. He thought this especially now as it became discovered that she originates from the legendary Time Lord. He’d heard lots of tales about the Doctor and if his daughter’s as good as him, then all of that is true.

He fastened his riffle to the gallery while spying around once more from the shelter of his helmet. A few shooters stayed up here, at least on this side. If he’s deft enough, he can cut them out before they can do anything. And who would be defter than a Zhak?

He looked into the telescope and surveyed the town. Boys, girls, here and there. Maybe they knew that they’re running into their death? It wasn’t his thing to find it out. As he was looking, he spotted Jenny and the kid. Why does this Andrew carry a bag with himself? Stupid kid!

They started into the direction which he discussed with Jenny. It’s good so far. There has to be the less trap.

He leant away from the weapon and noticed as the pig-faced Hurrin on his left aims at something, panting. He quickly thought through where the barrel of the alien’s weapon points then leant to the telescope again. Yes, there runs the victim. A red-haired girl, alone. How dishonourable!

He squinted at the bounty hunter once again then aimed and fired. He can also have a little fun!

The glistening missile just missed the girl but it was enough for her to threw herself onto her stomach and the Hurrin’s bullet not to hit her.

The alien looked at him then murmured something. How good is that he turned off the translation unit so he didn’t have to hear it. It was surely very dirty.

The Hurrin searched for a new target and as it found one, Vik inhibited it in ‘scoring’ again. The pig-faced became more and more nervous then when it missed the third contestant because of the Zhak, it picked up its riffle and stepped next to Caim.

As the threatening muscled bulk clouded upon Vik, the armoured peek quickly to the right. Two newer armed stood here but they were paying attention to the race. This is a right opportunity.

He straightened up in front of the Hurrin after which it started to grunt. It probably chid his ancestors. At least they agreed on this. He also had problems with one of his ancestors.

The creature lifted its hand to hit but Caim quickly bent away and got behind it. He kicked into its ham and the giant sank in. He caught its neck, the pig-faced’s eyes widened. He succeeded in catching a sensitive spot because it slackened rather quickly. He let it to the ground, the big bulk went sprawling on the gallery’s gridded floor. He picked up first his then the alien’s weapon. The idiot, it left its gun loaded. Two other bounty hunters, two shots. It will be easy.

He aimed from his hip, tried to balance the two riffles and fired. The Hurrin’s broad bullet dug into the shoulder of one of the shooters and the laser of his weapon burnt a hole into the other’s forearm and palm. His victims threw themselves to the ground, shouting.

He didn’t kill them, as Jenny asked, but it’s questionable what could have been better for them.

“Jenny!” he yelled into the helmet as he baffled his thoughts to the girl, away from the rapture which he gained from shooting.

He threw away the Hurrin’s weapon and looked for the girl, again through the telescope. She was still unharmed, just like the boy. They finished on a large part of the way, faster than he thought. They now made towards the laser-trap. And he can’t see anything there from here. It will be better if he hurries.

He took down the steel-wire rope which he kept on his belt and threw it over the gallery. There’s a roof nearby, he jumps there and from there, he can reach that point though the other roofs. He lowered himself and did as he traced. He climbed a wall, jumped over some roofs and got nearer and nearer to Jenny.

He was two streets away when he caught a glimpse of the girl who was already working hard to help the boy through the trap. From the walls, in sudden rhythm, laser rays shot out which could be easily avoided by an acrobat but the case is blunt in double. Fortunately, the energy-canopy is for situations like this.

The Doctor’s daughter almost danced as she was rushing around the boy, always springing into the appropriate position with the canopy. She had unbelievable reflexes!

This was when he noticed the figure who was glowing with a yellow colour and was waiting on the corner. The bounty hunter wore a personal shield; it seems he wanted to get specifically into the laser-trap. And he took action. He rushed into the house-cycle, going straight towards Jenny.

Vik lifted the riffle but it was late. The yellow-glowing guy overthrew Jenny; the canopy fell to the ground, the laser rays whooshed above her head. He tried to aim at the attacker with hands shaking from excitement, although he knew that his laser doesn’t break through the defence, either. When he decided that no matter what happens, he goes there, he saw as the boy makes a dash for the canopy and lifts it. The green ray-shield tensed behind Jenny who was getting onto her feet.

“Help Jenny, don’t play!” he shouted in vain.

Then he realised what Andrew does: he protects the girl’s back against the rays while the attacker’s personal shield protects her from the front. The boy isn’t that hopeless after all!

The guy attacked Jenny with a vibroknife but she avoided his attacks with ease and she also hit the knife out of his hand. At this, the man hit her between wind and water then slapped her face. The girl staggered backwards, to Andrew’s back. The guy took two other vibroknives and swung towards the girl when he suddenly froze and sank in. The ripple on the defence field signalled that something went through it at the man’s nape.

Caim noticed another bounty hunter on an opposite roof. He was the killer of the shielded, didn’t want to give the prey to someone else. However, before he could shoot at the couple, Vik’s weapon also fired. It hit the shooter on his hip who dropped as if he’d be from rubber.

Vik waited, watching the streets and roofs continuously, until Jenny and the boy get through the trap. As the girl turned the canopy off, she noticed him and, smiling, showed an okay to him with her hand and he waved back, relieved. The couple started on the street and he followed them, jumping on roofs.

He heard as the ‘paying guests’ finish with lots of youngsters but he couldn’t pay attention to them. To be honest, he didn’t care about their lives and deaths now. The person, whose life mattered now, ran a street away from him.

He knew, he wouldn’t have volunteered for rescuing missions like these by himself. But this girl touched something in him; she was able to carry him to every mad adventure in the past two years. Moreover, he had never been to as snug of a spaceship as Jenny’s; as a Zhak, he was used to bald, sterile corridors and cold control rooms. But everything’s different with her! And if it depends on him, he won’t leave this get lost.

At last, the couple reached the place where he lift was hidden behind a recess-wall. As the girl started to dismantle the thin sheet, two clawed P’kils appeared behind her. The cat-like creatures always hunted in pairs, it seemed, they didn’t give up their habits here, either.

Vik quickly annealed a shot; the laser only scorched the fur of one of the creatures. But it yowled up, pained, so Jenny could catch sight of it.

A couple of steps and he gets there. Just hold on until then!

He went towards the last roof and saw that the distance is too large between him and the P’kils. He gained strength onto his legs, sped up and threw himself off the roof. He was winging for a couple of seconds, almost feeling as gravitation catches him and jerks him towards the ground. He got ready for the collision.

Fortunately, Jenny, during the martial dance, baffled one of the P’kils under herself so he could land on the cat-creature. The smell of burnt hair flowed in through the helmet’s filter.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed, and jumped up from the fainting creature. The armour did have some weight!

He defended the strike of the cat’s partner with his riffle, clutching the gun with both his hands.

“I’ll occupy it! Pull the sheet out!” he yelled at Jenny.

The girl nodded and started to strain the hiding sheet down somehow. The boy helped her as well. Something would be needed to be pushed under it. Where’s a screwdriver when it’s needed?

Vik couldn’t concentrate on this, had to pay attention to his opponent. The P’kil, firing up on its partner’s fall, attacked faster and more exactly than he waited. He just countered one of its paws, the other clawed hit slipped off the breastplate, ploughing over the spot where the shot finishing his ancestor punched through the armour. He tried to hit with the riffle’s butt but the alien was too quick. He got hit after hit and started to tire, although all of this couldn’t be seen on the cat. It’s hard to fight like this because he can’t kill!

Jenny, at last, strained the ambush sheet up with the boy’s help and they rushed towards the lift through the duct which revealed itself. The deflection of Vik’s attention was enough for the cat to take him to the ground. It kicked him, the claws of its leg entered on the armpit part of the armour. It infringed a tendon, his left hand started to go numb. After this, the P’kil made a dash for the couple; it was probably interested in the boy.

Vik tried to push himself off the ground with his right hand but he couldn’t also shoot as well. He saw as Jenny and Andrew watch him and the attacker; saw as the cat-creature gets ready to jump. For his biggest surprise, Andrew preceded the alien.

The boy sprang to the creature uneasily which bumped to the wall of the narrow duct. Then, like someone who got scared from his own action, jumped back quickly.

At least, Vik could get onto his feet and picked his riffle from the ground. He started towards the couple and stepped into the lift with them. Soon, all of this will be over.

 

Andrew was glancing between the seemingly injured Vik and the tired-looking Jenny. The man wasn’t willing to take off the helmet and straightened up as best as it was possible. Maybe he didn’t want to seem injured in front of the girl. The lift slowly made its way upwards. He was surprised by that it wasn’t stopped yet but nothing alluded to that they’d do it at all.

They reached the highest level, the lift stopped, the doors opened. Vik stepped out first; he flexed his left arm in front of his chest and was supporting the riffle with it. He was followed by Jenny and Andrew was the third who stepped out.

They found themselves in a little, grey room. Its depressing, dull walls stared only a simple desk behind which a crummy man sat in a leather chair. Anger and consternation was mirrored on his wide face and he was playing with the thick chain hanging from his neck with his fingers. His left hand was searching for something in the desk’s drawer, nervously.

“To whom I have the honour of speaking?” he spoke, smuggling suavity into his voice.

Andrew realised that he heard this voice from the microphone, at the beginning of the race. They had the luck to meet the host.

“Get away from the table!” Vik instructed him deliberately.

The fat man saw it better to obey. He stood up slowly and recoiled a couple of steps.

“I’ve heard about you.” He was watching Jenny with his scared eyes. “You’re the angel, aren’t you? Who goes from planet to planet and tells tales about the man who didn’t do the same.”

“Quiet!” Vik yelled at him, harder this time. “Goron Ewvar, you’ve brought this planet to ruins!”

“Careful, my dear boy! New Earth has no problem and is in the pink of health. Thanks to me. Humans don’t ruin it like any other planets.”

Vik lifted the riffle higher.

“Why is this game, my child? I know that your friend wouldn’t do it, neither would you. The man can be known by their friends, as they say.” Ewvan chuckled, the wrinkles shaking on his neck.

Caim put the riffle into his left hand and tore the helmet off his head with his right.

“Look into my eyes! You know what I am!” The muscles on his face quivered. “You know that I’ll do it!”

The suave smile melted from Ewvar’s face, his features thrilled.

“My dear girl!” he turned to Jenny. “You won’t let him, will you?”

“If I don’t have to…” the girl hissed. “Andrew, dial!”

 

The Doctor jumped out of the TARDIS which parked again in Andrew’s living room. He promised last time that he won’t park inside anymore but if he can really save Andrew’s life now, then this promise doesn’t matter.

As he arrived onto the living room’s carpet, he already knew that he’s late. A once majestic standing clock lay broken on the floor, two acidic-edged holes yawned in the wall. The front door was kicked in, the lock broke down. He felt the smell of Ermokian sedating bullets. But the most shocking scene greeted him on the sofa.

A lady, who was in her forties, lay on it, her long blonde hair expanded on the cover. Next to her, Stephanie kneelt worriedly who clamped her same-shaded hair at the back. She looked up at the Doctor.

“He?” The Doctor couldn’t say anything more. Maybe he succeeded in ruin a family again.

“He’ll be fine,” Stephanie nodded slowly. “The man said that he won’t be harmed.”

“What man?” the Doctor lifted his eyebrow.

“He waits upstairs.”

The Doctor started helplessly, up the stairs. As he reached the top, he immediately spotted the trails of the shooting, bullets in the corridor’s two opposite walls. He thought Andrew’s room is the one which had its door kicked in on the same barbaric manner like the front door. He slowly stepped in, his hand clutching the sonic screwdriver.

The room’s floor was covered by all kinds of stuff: notebooks, books, papers, clothes. A man watched his coming from next to the desk which was standing next to the window. The man wore a blue uniform; his face was covered by a brown scarf in the main from which almost nothing could be seen behind his ragged and long brown hair, only an ugly scar. He held a photograph in his hand which he showed towards the Doctor. There were four people on the picture, the young Andrew with his family.

“I hope I don’t have to remind you of that you’re responsible for this boy!” The man’s finger rested on Andrew.

“You don’t have to!” the Doctor spoke, a little sharply.

“In this case you shouldn’t let the boy to be kidnapped!” The man’s voice was accusatory; every quiver of his brown scarf an unsaid verdict. “You can’t know what horrible things he lives through, what wounds it tears into his soul, every occasion when he has to face death. Mainly if you’re not with him.”

“I said you don’t have to remind me of my job.” The Doctor was fixing his tie in his bafflement.

“I’m glad. I just thought I tell you!” The man clasped the telescoped riffle lying in the bed and got ready to go.

“And who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter now. Only the boy. Let’s leave my name in talon.” His eyes fixed on the Doctor.

Those eyes were familiar, very familiar. And he realised: last time, this pair of eyes was watching them from the darkness of one of the houses. But there was something over this, it wasn’t the only thing why he knew it.

“Wait! I’ve seen you before!”

The Doctor watched incredulously as the man walks past him and lumbers down the stairs. In this moment a sound assailed his ear: the ringing of the TARDIS’ phone. He also jogged down the stairs and ran into the phone box. He could hear the unknown man’s deep voice.

“Go, save him!”

 

The Doctor is coming!

Andrew’s heart was beating in his throat. He survived this adventure as well. And, this time, without the Doctor’s help. Although, the Doctor’s daughter was with him.

“He’s coming!” He said only this when he put down the phone.

Vik was still keeping Ewvar at bay with the weapon and excited happiness moved onto Jenny’s face. Won’t she get disappointed when she catches a glimpse of the Doctor?

At last, the squawking, strident noise sounded and the phone box’s calming, blue form slowly faded in. As it completely materialised, one of the doors opened to let out the relieved Doctor.

Who immediately came to a halt as he caught a glimpse of the girl in front of him.

The girl was equally surprised; confusion changed up the happiness on her face. He blushed like someone who was slapped on their face.

“I don’t understand this! Where is Dad?”

“He is the Doctor,” Andrew said quietly.

“No, that can’t be!” Jenny’s voice became hysteric.

“I’m sorry!” the Doctor was finally able to get a word in. “I’m so sorry! Jenny, it’s me but lots of things changed.”

Tears sprang to her eyes; she was looking through them at the dark-jacketed man who said himself to be her father. As much as she could, she dug her gaze into the other’s. The Doctor stood her gaze.

Then Jenny sobbed loudly and swung into the Doctor’s direction. She hugged him; her tears soaked the jacket. The Doctor was firstly surprised then he also hugged his daughter. He let Jenny to bur her face into his shoulder violently. He now felt happiness.

“How… How could this happen?” the girl sniffled.

“It’s a long, very long story. But let’s arrange this first, okay? I’ll tell you everything after this, I promise.”

He evolved from his daughter’s hug who quietly stopped in a corner, weeping from happiness. Vik blinked towards him helplessly then, when the Doctor waved to him, put down the weapon and stepped next to Jenny. The girl looked at him gratefully and boxed into his shoulder, smiling.

“So, you’re…” the Doctor started.

“Goron Ewvar, the third,” the fat man spoke tautly. “And the saviour of the Earth.”

“The Earth?” The Doctor scratched his chin. “Oh, the New Earth! But which one?” he squinted back to Andrew who showed the number seven with his hands. “So the seventh.”

“Yes, which I am the saviour of.”

“You don’t save anyone!” the Time Lord’s voice suddenly hardened. “You sacrifice lives! It shouldn’t be like this. Where are the big ships? They should be on the road to the next Earth!”

“I don’t let the Human species to ruin more planets! They are only barbarians and vandals! They don’t deserve the beauty of the universe.”

“Because you do?”

“No, I don’t, either; that’s why I’m here and not out there. Our species is rotten; I’m not an exception, either. Your little friend already made me stop the race. And? Humanity will be its own murderer because this is its destiny, it’s coded into us. I only help destiny.”

“Who are you to decide this?”

“I’m the commissioner. I got everything to do it.”

The Doctor thought for a half minute.

“From who? The Nayads?”

“Yes! I proudly say that. Their messenger lavished everything on me and I created this,” he showed around, “this, what keeps humanity where it belongs. What do you want to do to me? Will you bring me to justice?”

“You’ll get your punishment, you can be sure about this,” the Doctor said quietly.

“Only reward awaits me!” Ewvar lifted his left hand which he clenched into a fist and lashed at his neck.

As he put his hand down, a tiny needle’s holder could be seen from which a greenish liquid’s last drop emptied. Ewvar started to shake then his eyes stuck and he fainted. The Doctor stood detachedly next to the man; didn’t glow conpassion in his eyes as he looked down at the body.

“Doctor?” Andrew spoke. “That… That was it?”

“That was it.” The Time Lord slowly turned. “I couldn’t do anything; he made this resolution a very long time ago.”

“But why was all this needed for the Nayads? What was its reason?”

“I don’t know, Andrew. It had no reason. It doesn’t resemble to Nayad deal, was simply illogical. Maybe it wasn’t them.”

“He blamed it on them before his death?” Vik asked with pity in his voice.

“I wouldn’t think so; if nothing else, he was honest. Maybe some kind of trickster had him over. Although, this doesn’t make sense, either. Maybe we won’t find this out.” He started, putting his hand onto Andrew’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

 

Inside the TARDIS Jenny fell on the Doctor’s neck again while Vik looked around in the silvery room, marvelling.

“This is bigger on the inside!” he said with honest fascination.

“Yes, this was said by a couple of people,” the Doctor smiled.

“Where are we going now?” Jenny’s voice tinkled gleefully.

The Doctor’s gaze darkened.

“To your ship.”

“What?” The breath froze in Jenny. “But you promised…”

“I promised that I’ll tell you everything,” the Time Lord lifted his index finger while already asserting the switch-vast of the TARDIS’ control panel. “But I didn’t promise that you can come with me.”

“But… I thought we’ll be together from now on. Like father and daughter, together in the galaxy. Did you change this much?” she threw to him angrily.

“I didn’t change!” the Doctor yelled at her and all the three youngsters shook for a moment. “And the galaxy won’t, either! There are still lots of monsters and dangers wait outside!”

“Yes, and civilisations waiting to be saved and lots of running!” Jenny added trustingly. “Like before. I undertake the danger; I’m doing it for six years now.”

“Yes and I’m proud of you. But I don’t undertake it. You can’t ask me to see you die once again! If you stay with me, this is what waits you!”

“But…”

“This doesn’t have a place now! I was a father a long time ago, a very long time ago! And I’d like to be one again. But there’s no Gallifrey where I could do it in safety. I know that you’re alive and there’s no happier thought than this!” The Doctor’s eyes twinkled tearfully now. “And as long as you’re alive, I can visit you anytime. But if you come with me and die, there’s no coming back! I can’t see you anymore! And I wouldn’t be able to endure that.”

The Time Lord turned back to the control panel and put the TARDIS down. The box’s doors opened for the push of a button.

“Go to the ship and wait for me! I’ll be back immediately; I won’t be late this time. We’ll make everything fine. But I’ll take Andrew home first.”

Jenny nodded sadly then she left the time machine with Vik. The doors closed; the man sadly stooped above the buttons and started to switch again.

“Doctor?”

“Yes?” the Time Lord pushed some force into his voice. “You’re thinking about why I let her go, aren’t you? You could hear it… I suspected that she can be alive since you mentioned her when we first met. When I realised that you know everything about me, the hope glinted in me. But I didn’t dare to make that step. I didn’t want it to hurt again.”

“I’m sorry!” Andrew spoke.

“Don’t be!” the Doctor started to smile. “You do everything for the reunion, don’t you, Andrew McAllistair? You make yourself kidnapped, just to do it,” he laughed bitterly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it like this.”

“The point is that the immediate danger’s gone.”

“Stephanie?” the boy suddenly exclaimed; his sister came into his mind and that strange, jarring sound.

“She’s fine! And your mother will also be fine.”

“Mum?” Worry sat out onto Andrew’s face.

“Yes, she’s not harmed, calm down. Ernokian sedating orbs don’t cause permanent lesion, a little dizziness maximum. But maybe it’s out of harm’s way if you’d talk.”

“I wanted to avoid this,” the boy made his eyes fall.

“I know! You don’t want her to worry, it’s natural. But it will be better for her if she knows this as well.”

Andrew took a deep breath while feeling as the TARDIS shakes. They landed.

“Again in the living room?”

“Only!” the Doctor grinned.

“Thank you for coming for me, Doctor!” Andrew said slowly. He wanted to step out the door as late as he could.

“Anytime, Andrew, anytime!”

Andrew strengthened, fixed the backpack’s strap and started towards the exit of the box.

“Until next time!” the Time Lord shouted after him, smiling.

“Until then,” the boy murmured.

A couple of steps left until the door. As he steps out, a newer big discussion waits him. He sighed once again as he went through the door.

Then, let’s do it!

 

_It’s almost a hundred years after Colonel Fawcett went missing,_

_His contemporaries thought that looking for him is unnecessary._

_But in his diary, the Doctor found a hint_

_About the old adventurer who probably stayed on the land of the living._

_And because his diary writes it like this_

_They also take Steph onto this trip._

_However, because time twists again once,_

_The Doctor bumps into an unknown acquaintance._


	12. Doctor Mini - Cantina at the End of the Universe

Machoron.

The darkest, most notorious cantina of the universe, on the third moon of Thruil. Popular meeting place of wanted criminals, smugglers and bounty hunters. The pub where there’s more brawl every day than the quantity of measured drinks. The smell of the representatives of hundreds of species mingles in the fusty, smoky air and some creatures gladly paddle in this aroma-mix of desperation and fear.

The cantina’s owners are unknown but they definitely maintain the place from illegal funds. Different barkeepers can be seen every week because generally they are the first victims of the drunken customers. Now a life-tired four-handed Chithonian was standing in front of the multi-coloured bottles and tried to humour every boozing. One of the customers, a ran-down Rigelian, leant onto the counter elated rapturously from its drink and it stayed this way. It fell asleep. But its snoring was easily oppressed by the discord.

Two Sontarans tried to convince the small, already strongly dazed audience about which one of them is the bigger hero of war by talking down each other. Most of them only waved at them: the two cloned warriors can be swashbucklers maximum if they pass their time in this pub.

A woman carefully slipped across between some turbulent minded Hoix. She wore a skin-tight black dress and two pistol-holders hung from her belt. She had shingled deep-black hair. Something bulged suspiciously under her dress’ sleeve on her left arm. She wore an opaque black visor but her sharp eyes jumped to and fro behind it: she was looking for something. She gracefully avoided and brushed off every violent creature, finally settling down at a table. The lanky alien opposite her threw her a grim look but as the woman pointed at the pistols, it decided that it’s better if it leaves the table.

The woman, invisibly for her, was watched by a well-set, rusty, grey armour-wearing man a couple of tables away from her.

He fixed the helmet hiding his face and leant back in the shaky chair.

“I can see her!” Vik Caim spoke quietly.

“Great!” Jenny’s cheerful voice sounded through the comm-link. “I thought I lost sight of her.”

“You did but I didn’t!” The Zhak started to grin. “She’s waiting for someone. She tries to seem invisible and she’s very good in it. She’s so flashy in this outfit that she wouldn’t come into sight of anyone here.”

“This didn’t make that much sense.” Jenny started to smile; at least Vik heard it like that.

“Where are you?”

“At the back entrance now. Logically, she would quit this way. And I’m trying to find her ship. What is she doing here, by the way?” the girl changed topic.

“I’ve no idea. The lady, according to her reputation, is smuggler and thief. The show, as she sneaked away the ship, is unbelievable. But this isn’t the best place to chaffer it away.”

“Maybe she didn’t want to fly in to one of the receivers! She can get into vantage-point here because of the crowd.”

“It’s possible, but…” Vik fell silent, as he caught a glimpse of someone nearing the woman’s table. “Wait! Maybe I’ve got the chap.”

A man was coming. He wore a loose cloak which was hiding his form, but he only pulled it together on his chest so his red coat and its white stripes could be seen under it. He surveyed his environment nervously; maybe he feared the meeting. As he calmed down a little, he sent a brash half-grin towards the woman. He tried to appear self-confident.

Vik jumped from his place to get closer to the couple. When the man lumped down onto the chair opposite the woman, the Zhak got within range.

“Portia!” the man whispered. Vik was sure about that he heard the man’s voice somewhere.

“Johnny!” the woman exclaimed, scandalising her interlocutor. “I’ve seen you a long time ago. What’s up with you?”

“Be a bit quieter!” the other put her in her place. “Let’s arrange this and you won’t see me anymore!”

Vik stepped towards them to take a closer look at the man.

“It can’t be!” the Zhak shouted into the comm onto which Jenny’s deprecating throat-clearing was the reply. “This is the guy who transmitted Andrew to Ewvar. What’s his name?”

“John Hart,” Jenny answered after a tiny pause. “What are they talking about?”

Caim fell silent harken freely. They came here after the woman named Portia after she snagged a dangerous explosive-supply, not far from the Zhak motherworld. In another case, Vik wouldn’t have been interested in the problems of his former home but because Zhaks are one of the best weapon experts; their weapons are deadly in every hand. So if they inhibit the woman in pass on the supply, they can avert lots of deaths.

“Are you scared, Johnny boy?” Portia started to grin mockingly. “Did someone cut your comb? Or are there problems with Jack?”

“Stop it!” Hart reached under the cloak and brought out three tiny data-cards. “Here’s your money.” He dumped the data-cards onto the table but the woman didn’t reach after them. “What?”

“Come on, let’s drink one before that. For old times’ sake!” Portia waved to a waiter-like being and it brought two bottles, putting them down onto the table. “I chose the bests.”

“What is this game, witch?” Hart clanged up.

“I’m telling you, we’re drinking.” The woman was still smiling as she opened one of the bottles and plucked at it. “Life is so boring since the Agency is no more. At least it was entertaining, playing tag with you. And the prize was always satisfying!” She pulled up the sleeve of her dress and the Vortex Manipulator could be seen which was braced onto her wrist. “Although, you were raising very weak Agents lately.”

Hart quickly reached out and hid the device with his palm.

“Hey, why?” The woman querulously pretended indignation.

“Don’t show it off! You’re wearing the most wanted device of the universe; you don’t care about which one of us you got this from.”

“Of course it’s wanted, I know. On the contrary, that kid didn’t know it, neither did his partner. They advertised out loud that they were Time Agents and wanted to extort free drinks with this. I was willing to pay a round!” The woman didn’t stop grinning self-confidently; she enjoyed as Hart’s forehead frothed more and more from sweat. “Poor kids,” she shook her head, “they didn’t get drink and their gadget’s gone. Life is so unfair.

“Take the money and go!” Hart wanted to stand up but Portia caught his arm. “I don’t need more tales about Agents.”

“Oh, but there are a couple of them! For example about that idiot who isn’t able to put a disruptor gun together properly. I don’t know how you could take him up. Imagine, he tried to rustle my ship! Isn’t it unbelievable? He was able to drive it into a space-time rift and we were lead up to a planet called something like Earth. What a stupid name for a planet!”

Hart tore his hand out of the woman’s grip and turned his back on her. The woman stood up as well and Vik swung to get nearer.

“Aren’t you interested in the end of it?” Portia yelled after the man. “Then at least let’s not waste the drink!”

Hart turned whereon Portia caught one of the bottles and swung it.

Straight towards Vik.

The bottle knocked straight to Caim’s helmet, the liquid covered all of it and immediately dried onto it. Vik snatched the helmet off his head when the other bottle also flew towards him. Vik luckily turned away from it and it clacked to a Hurrin behind him. The creature turned, grunting and stared at Vik.

“It can’t be! You again?” he breathed while the alien went for him.

“Bon voyage, Johnny!” Portia shouted while picking up the data-cards from the table and started to run.

Vik, falling to the ground, reached for the helmet and yelled into it.

“Portia went outside! She’s yours! I’m busy.” He just finished when the Hurrin’s enormous fist lashed at his face.

He tried to get on his feet with a tingling head while the giant got ready for another hit. Fortunately, the alien was swept away from behind him. When he didn’t feel dizzy, he realised what happened. The tavern was overcome with fighting fever. The drunken, bitter costumers came at each other, heartened from alcohol. They didn’t see who they hit or who hits them. They just wanted to give out all their anger and bitterness.

Vik jumped after Hart who was also forced to a fist fight with an alien. He avoided the hits whereon at last he successfully whipped out his pistol from under the cloak and shot his attacker. Vik thought bitterly of his riffle which was resting in one of the armoires of the ship which he called home. What a shame that it’s not with him! But Jenny talked him into that killing can be the most easily avoided if he doesn’t have a weapon.

Hart also noticed him and shot into his direction. The bullets whooshed past him but painful cries signalled that they hit someone. The Time Agent started to retreat, they tore the cloak off him then someone pushed him and he fell to the counter. Vik got nearer and nearer to him, avoiding expelling fists, claws and tentacles. He slipped off Portia but still can catch Hart.

Although, as he filtered out from the conversation, the man didn’t want to buy the weapons but kidnapping is a crime on every account.

Vik jumped over a Sontaran who fell to the ground and appeared in front of Hart who already got to his feet. The Chithonian barkeeper, knowing its predecessors’ destiny, scooted out of the room a long time ago. Hart pushed the still snoring Rigelian to the ground and clutched the bottle standing in front of him. He smote at Vik with it but the Zhak warded off the hit with his armour-hidden forearm. The bottle clacked, its content covered both of them.

Vik swung backwards and got ready for an attack when he saw that Hart only stares at his red coat which was dotted in spots by the sticky slop. Hatred sat onto the man’s face.

“Shame that it was blue!” Caim shrugged. “You won’t get this out easily!”

Hart still didn’t show any sign of feeling like fighting.

“I was invited to a funeral!” He looked peevishly at Vik who already lowered his arms, confused.

A Thanagar sprung between them and Hart jumped backward but the falling alien tore off the sleeve of his coat, making the Vortex Manipulator visible. The Thanagar looked at the man incredulously.

“Time Agent!” it shouted.

The pub fell silent and everything looked towards the counter. The costumers who were jumping to the throat of each other now started towards Hart; everyone wanted the treasure which the man wore on his wrist. The Time Agent snatched at the machinery as fast as he could and when he realised that he doesn’t have time to give a concrete destination, punched in a random coordinate and vanished. The aliens jumping after him could only grab at the air.

Vik, using the temporary calmness, started towards the exit. He didn’t care that he leaves the helmet there; he had to find Jenny. He just hoped that she’s fine; Portia seemed like a woman who wasn’t afraid of hurting others.

 

Jenny stood face to face with the woman who was temporarily weighing how she could get to her ship. She sent a pitying look towards Jenny from under the darkened visor.

“Sweetie, you don’t want this, either!”

“I won’t let you take the ship.”

“Oh, of course you will!” She reached after the pistols and pointed both of them at the girl. “I’ll tell you only once, blondie!”

Jenny reached to her pocket, clutching the energy-canopy’s haft. She’s fast enough to turn it on before Portia’s missile hits her. But if the woman doesn’t use laser but solid missile, the canopy is useless.

“Well, what do you choose?” As if Portia reneged from the shot. “You’re too pretty to die,” her fingers tightened on the trigger, “what a shame for you!”

Jenny snatched at the canopy; its green light glowed up. But nothing bumped into it.

Portia looked uncomprehendingly at the pistols. Then she sighed, threw them away and lifted her hands above her head.

“Alright, come forward!” she said boredly. “We played this last time.”

“Wow, how good your memory is!” a voice spoke then the Doctor’s well-known, oblong face appeared from between the shadows. He fixed his tie, smiling, and put the sonic screwdriver away. “Portia Mallony.”

“Your partner, isn’t she?” Portia puckered up her lips. “I should have suspected.” She crossed her arms in front of her, the fingers of her right hand hammered on her left wrist.

“My daughter.”

“Wow!” the woman whistled. “Congratulations! But if you could please, I have job to do…”

“Jenny said it right, you won’t take the ship. It doesn’t match your style, by the way; the Western Wind was better.”

“And this appearance doesn’t fit you.” Portia rolled her eyes. “But style-changing is mandatory from time to time.”

“For example becoming a thief?”

“Being a baby sitter isn’t rewarding, you know. This pays better. Not to mention plus allotments.” She hitched up the sleeve of her dress. “For example, this!” She started the Vortex Manipulator. “Goodbye!”

Reality twisted and Portia disappeared. Vik arrived just in his moment, staring at the Doctor, flabbergasted.

“Erm… Hello!”

The Doctor nodded once as a reply. Jenny put the ray-canopy away and hugged her father.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m just saying hello. When did we meet last?”

“Maybe two months ago,” Jenny mused.

“Hm…” the Doctor was thinking. He was creased his forehead the same way as his daughter does. “New Earth?”

“That was one and a half year ago,” Jenny laughed.

“Oh! Lokher-Biz?”

“Nearer but it’s still not that.”

“I think I’ll bring a diary instead next time because playing this every time will be long.” The Doctor smiled while getting out a little wooden box and it had a Gallifreyan stave carved into its top. “But now I brought only this.”

Jenny received the box but didn’t open it yet.

“You’re going already?” She looked up sadly.

“Time waits for no one, you know how it is.” The Time Lord put his hands into his pockets.

“Isn’t it senseless, Doctor?” Vik asked while stepping next to Jenny.

“Maybe it is.” The man shrugged while walking away.

“Andrew?” Jenny inquired.

However, the Doctor just moved on, not giving an answer. He turned back once again and smiled at the couple.

“Be good! Until next time!” He waved cheerfully towards them.

Jenny and Vik looked at each other uncomprehendingly then at the bickering Doctor. Then the girl grabbed the top of the box and opened it. The two youngsters looked each other again then they started to smile.

In the box, on the red velvet lining, two golden rings were resting.


	13. Unknown Friend, Part One

“What I did, I did without choice. In the name of peace and sanity.”

“But not in the name of the Doctor!” The Doctor’s voice acted as forceless as the veteran’s who he was answering to.

The Time Lord waited a bit more, watching the old man, then he turned everything behind as soon as possible. Everything that happened and everything that the veteran brought up in him.

The respective waited until the Doctor vanishes then the old man slowly looked after him. His gaze wasn’t looking for the last Time Lord but into the distance.

 

“Would you turn it off?” Andrew’s voice clanged up whereon his sister shook.

Stephanie sat on the sofa, opposite the telly. She threw a resentful look towards her brother then stopped the video, put the remote onto the table and stood up.

Andrew stood in front of the living room’s window, with earphones in his ears. His knitted brows and the wrinkles creasing his forehead let others judge by this that he concentrates on something. He almost didn’t notice as his sister, still peevishly, walks behind him. In the end, he saw the girl’s faint reflection in the window’s glass. Sighing resignedly, he turned off the mobile phone resting in his pocket and turned to find himself face to face with Steph’s flashing gaze.

“Thank you!” he said wryly.

The only reply was an angry intake of breath.

“Come on!” The boy spoke a bit more sharply than he wanted to. “And how many times do you want to see it?”

“As many times as I want!” the girl retorted. “Not everyone can do that to travel with the real Doctor. Only this stays for me.” She crossed her arm across her chest.

“Don’t start it again!”

The girl took no notice of the comment.

“And you? How long do you want to amuse yourself with that thing?” she continued.

Andrew snatched at his neck involuntarily, fixing the collar of his shirt.

“Quieter! Mum can hear it.”

“How could she hear it?” Steph still lowered her voice. “She’s sleeping. Again. She’s very tired these days, you know it right. Since that stuff knocked her out.”

“I can’t do anything about that!” Andrew stood on the defensive but he didn’t think it like this, either.

“You could have told. At least to me.” Stephanie got out of blow so took a deep breath. “You could have said that they are hunting you. I mean that someone’s this near.” The anger was gone from her voice; worry took its place. “Maybe we could have done something.”

“And what?” His sister didn’t answer but Andrew didn1t even expect a reply. “We couldn’t have done anything. The Doctor promised that he’ll come, I expected this. I wasn’t away to amuse myself, either; I could have died.”

“Don’t you think I’m glad that you’re alive? How can you tell me this?” Tears gathered into Steph’s eyes. “But Mum…”

“She’ll be fine,” the boy hugged his sister. “The Doctor said so.”

“But…”

The conversation was interrupted by a whistling, squawking sound. The siblings jumped away from each other as the alien wind roiled the air; Steph wiped off her tears. Both of them watched the living room’s farthest side where firstly the blue phone box’s faint silhouette loomed up, then the ship materialised. The TARDIS landed in the house again.

Her door sprung open and the grinning Doctor jumped out for behind it. He fixed his bow tie and stopped in front of the McAllistair-siblings.

“Hi!”

“Doctor?” the two siblings said in unison.

The man’s gaze was jumping to and from between them then rested on the girl’s tear-stained face. His smile slipped away.

“Did I interrupt something?” he asked quietly.

“No, not at all,” Andrew told him quickly.

The Doctor was watching both of them quietly, it could be seen that he didn’t believe the boy. The evolving awkward silence was broken by Andrew’s question.

“Erm… How is Jenny?”

“She’s fine. We’ve met on Lokher-Biz recently. It was a good adventure, I’ll tell you once. Vik said that you were left with the,” his index finger danced in the air then pointed at Andrew’s neck, “translating disk.”

“Yes.”

“How did your mother greet it?”

Andrew’s gaze darkened.

“In no way. I told her,” he reacted quickly at the Doctor’s questioning look, “but she forgot. She forgets again and again. The attack isn’t qualified as direct link.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! So you try to hide it from her?” He pointed at the shirt’s upturned collar. “It came into sight that I see you in t-shirt now.”

Andrew nodded.

“Is Clara alright?” Stephanie cut in, a little diffidently.

“Clara?” the Doctor flustered. “Why wouldn’t she be alright?” Then his gaze slipped at the television and understood what the question trends to. “Oh, I forgot this!” He allowed himself a faint smile. “She’s alright compared to that she stepped into my timeline. She rests now; it will be good for some time if we don’t meet. There was much from me, maybe too much.”

“What will you engage yourself in, then?” Andrew inquired.

“What? What do you mean?”

“You solved the mystery of the Impossible Girl!”

“There’s still enough mystery.” The Doctor winked at Andrew. “And a good couple of adventures. Just like now. So come on, children, we’ve job to do!”

He span around his axle and started towards the box. But came to a halt at Andrew’s voice.

“Children?”

The Time Lord turned back.

“Okay, maybe not in biological meaning,” he started to explain, “but in a psychological one on every account, mainly if we’re looking at the age, after all compared to my one thousand and two hundred years…”

“No,” Andrew interrupted. “Children?” he repeated. “Plural?”

“Of course, Stephanie’s coming as well. Haven’t I said it?” the man pulled an innocent face.

The girl, as she heard it, screamed up in her excitement. She rushed to the hangers immediately to pull off her jacket but the Doctor put her in her place.

“You won’t need that, trust me! But put your shoes on!”

Steph looked at the Doctor with eyes shining with delight, then as the man waved towards the TARDIS’ door, rushed happily into the ship. Andrew followed her sullenly, then the Time Lord also stepped into the box and it vanished from the living room.

 

The Doctor was dancing around the control panel; Stephanie watched him with sparking eyes, almost shaking from excitement.

“What is this good for?” she asked, pointing at a handle.

“No touch! Take your brother as an example!” The Doctor waved into the boy’s direction then attended to the button-vast again. “He always sits in one place.”

Andrew sat on the chair built into the handrail, his shirt’s collar unbuttoned. He was glad that the cloth doesn’t constrain his neck and his finger ran over the disk which was cold to the touch. He thrilled but not because the touch of metal. The situation didn’t let him rest.

“Why is she coming as well?” he asked as the Doctor stopped trepidation.

“Are you envious?” his sister threw to him stingily.

“Why would I be?” the boy asked back but Stephanie only put her tongue out.

“She’s coming,” the Doctor cut in, hastening to inhibit the aggravation of the argument, “because she’s needed.”

The two siblings stared at the Doctor with widened eyes. The man leant to the control panel, crossing his hands in front of his chest.

“What do you know about Percival Harrison Fawcett?”

“The Colonel?” Andrew asked back after a short silence.

“Yes. Well?”

“I’ve heard about him. He was an archaeologist and explorer,” the boy shrugged. “He died on one of his trips.”

“Almost.” The Doctor lifted his index finger. “He went missing and didn’t die. And this is a relevant difference.” He turned and picked up a book which was lying on the control surface. “I found his diary in the Library. Read it!”

The boy received the thick notebook. Its cover was dingy and dusty, its sheets turned yellow and its spine was already cracked.

He turned the pages in it. He reached carefully to the sheets, fearing that they will become frayed any time between his fingers.

“In which one?” he asked while trying to decipher the ink-stained writing.

The Doctor started to grin quietly. Andrew didn’t notice this but Stephanie did all the more. As she understood what the smile refers to, her eyes became more sparkling.

“Not in which one but in the Library,” she said with honest admiration.

Andrew looked at his sister but didn’t care what she said. The diary held him spellbound.

“What am I looking for?”

“The last entry,” the Doctor replied. “Fawcett wrote his last letter in the May of 1925; they assume that he died after this, somewhere in Brazil. However, the dates let us judge otherwise.”

 

‘September 2, 1925.

I don’t know how long I’ve been in Ceiba. During this time I was always in the same room; my host didn’t visit me for a long while. I decided that when the first occasion serves I will officially protest against the treatment. It’s outrageous that the representative of a population which is so developed intellectually neglects his guests this much. Or prisoners. I start to suspect that the second designation would be more exact. Maybe I should think about getting out if he doesn’t wish to release me. I don’t know how we could escape.’

 

“Turn the page, there’s another one!” the Time Lord instructed the boy.

 

‘September 9, 1925.

I was visited last night. It wasn’t the man who keeps me here. Yes, I’m sure of it now that this is the relevant designation. He still doesn’t take a look at me. Who came to me was human. He seemed like one, at least. But there was something not human in him. There were two children with him, a boy and a girl. They seemed to be siblings, the features of their faces allowed me to think this. The man called himself the Doctor; I asked him what kind of doctor, but he didn’t give an answer to this. I stopped enquire; if he can be the key of our escape, I won’t trouble him with this kind of whatnots. He said he’ll come back for us tonight. I’m ready to go!’

 

Andrew closed the book and gave it back to the Doctor. He looked at his sister.

“We resemble this much?”

“In point of fact, yes.” The Doctor nodded while starting towards one of the corridors with the book in his hand.

He soon left the control room. The two siblings stayed alone.

“So?” Stephanie turned to Andrew after a few moments.

“Fawcett writes that the Doctor arrived to him with the company of a pair of siblings. I think he assumed that we were them.”

“That’s it?” Steph seemed disappointed. “We’re here for only this? Because a book says so?”

“This isn’t only a book!” the Doctor spoke cheerfully as he came back. “This is Fawcett’s diary so the colonel says so. But if I wouldn’t be sure about this,” he smiled at the girl, “I wouldn’t have thought of you.”

He appeared at the controller and plucked at a handle.

“And now: we’re landing!”

However, the TARDIS quivered then started to shake. One shockwave was followed by another; the box’s flooring shook rhythmically. Steph swung; Andrew jumped from the seat and snatched at her. His palm locked onto the girl’s arm and pulled her to the handrail. The Doctor was looking nervously at the monitor and Andrew. The sonic screwdriver appeared in his hand and aimed at the boy with it. He swung it then lifted it in front of his eyes.

“No, there’s no deflective field,” he spluttered. “Then something else is the problem.”

He pushed a couple of buttons and the shaking stopped, he twisted a fastener then the TARDIS froze for good. She whined like a twisting metal.

“Where are we?” Steph asked, alarmed.

“In Brazil, not far from our destination. But far enough for us not to be there. According to the TARDIS, it’s protected by a temporal shield.”

“What?” Steph shook Andrew’s hand off her at last.

“A protecting field on which the TARDIS can’t get through,” Andrew explained.

“Thanks, I realised this myself!” his sister remarked virulently.

“There was something like this on Pluvia as well,” the boy continued, neglecting the remark. “It protected the aggression-controller.”

“And it was also protected from us back then,” the Doctor added. “But then the Nayads had to do something with that.”

“You think that they also have now?”

“We go out and find it out!”

The Doctor appeared at the door, looked out and called the siblings out. As the boy stepped out, he had to cough. The air was steamy and the Sun shone intensely. The blue box rested under the branches of tall, stiff-bodied trees which were reaching deeply. Andrew’s shoes sank into sticky, red soil. Wide-leafed knee-high plants covered the hill which they stood at the foot of.

Water dropped from their leafs in tiny drops and spray trickled from the coronet of the trees well.

Andrew felt that his clothes steeped immediately. He thrilled.

“This isn’t right like this!” the Doctor swung his head. “There should be a mountain there,” he pointed into the distance.

“But this is only a hill,” Steph shrugged.

“It shouldn’t be like this. According to Fawcett’s descriptions.”

The Doctor started to the signed direction, folding the plants away from him. The two youngsters’ eyes met then followed him, staying close behind him. They sank in with every step, the reddish substance sticking onto their shoes. Andrew felt through his trousers as the plants’ leafs flop back.

They were marching quietly for nearly ten minutes. The Doctor was continuously flourished with the screwdriver into the direction where he presumed the mountain to be which was mentioned by Fawcett. Andrew and Stephanie were watching the landscape, the sighing trees and the sounds of the animals which sifted from the forest. Every now and then, birds flew towards the sky, squawking, like dark shadows.

Then the Doctor came to a halt along with the siblings. He stared at a spot in front of him with knitted eyebrows and a wrinkling forehead. He reached out but snatched his hand back.

“There’s something here. I think we found the edge of the shield.”

“I see only the hill,” Stephanie spoke quietly.

“Shield and cloaking field,” the Doctor corrected. “They aren’t only protecting the place but they also hid. Whatever Ceiba is, that is exactly in front of us.” His bushed gaze frightened Andrew.

“Then? We’ll break in?” the boy asked. “With River, we could get into the tower without the TARDIS.”

The Doctor swung his hand forward again but it bumped into an invisible obstacle. He lowered his arm and shook his head.

“We can’t now.”

Suddenly, as if a lightning could have expelled from the surface of the invisible shield. A bluish flash lashed into the ground not far from them. All three of them turned into the direction of the phenomena. The light drew back behind the shield.

Where it landed, something was sparkling between the wet surfaces of the leafs. The Doctor marched there. Andrew and Stephanie followed him.

“Stay there!” he yelled at them. “It can be dangerous.”

Andrew still dared to go closer to see above the Time Lord’s shoulder. The man unfolded the leafs; between them on the ground, a light blue, translucent object lay. It resembled to a human skull but it was elongated lengthwise, its orbits were larger and its mouth tiny. A strange blaze encompassed it.

“Doctor, is this a crystal skull?” the boy asked.

The Doctor threw a deprecating look towards him because he didn’t comply with his instruction but nodded unhurriedly.

“You, humans, gave this name to it. Actually, this is the skull one of the representative of the Exeftri species. Their bones convalesce from a crystalline material and they are excellent telepaths. If you observe it,” he pointed towards the cheekbone, “their mouths wouldn’t be able to move. They don’t speak in a traditional manner. But what is it doing here?”

He reached carefully under the skull and lifted it. As if the orbits caught alight as sunlight shone through them. The rays lit up the Doctor’s face, conjuring a strange shadow onto it.

Then the man shouted.

His hands started to glow like the skull. It wasn’t only the sunbeam which broke on it, that emitted the light. The crystalline bones slowly became yellow which started to swirl in it like dust, slowly filling the whole skull.

Andrew appeared next to the Doctor and hit the Exeftri head from his hand. It fell back onto the loamy ground then, still glowing, started to sink. Andrew snatched after it but the Doctor caught his hand. The skull was fully swallowed by the ground; the reddish soil covered it, hiding every trail of that it was there.

“Doctor, are you alright?” Stephanie got there.

“I’m alright, I think.” The Time Lord panted.

“What was this?”

“It absorbed a part of my regeneration energy. On the same lines with Teb’Sagro’s machine. It’s now sure that the Nayads are responsible for this as well. We have to get back the skull!”

“Then why didn’t you let me catch it?” Andrew felt indignant about the case.

“It’s full of my energy,” the Doctor pointed out. “If you catch it like I did… I don’t know what could have happened. I didn’t want to risk it. Come on, we go back! Then I’ll find it.”

 

This time they arrived in front of the McAllistair-house. The Doctor baffled them into the apartment; the muddy shoes of the siblings stuck, squelching, to the antechamber’s floor. Stephanie took the shoes to wash it down later. Andrew turned to the Doctor.

“And what about Fawcett?”

“The skull can be the key to get in,” the man mused. “I don’t know how deep it could dig itself. But it has to emerge from the ground sooner or later. I just have to find that date.”

“Doctor!” Stephanie’s cry sounded.

Andrew and the Time Lord caught up their heads then rushed after Stephanie. The girl was standing in the kitchen with the muddy shoes in her hand. She was staring at the table.

“Are you alright?” Andrew shouted.

“Yes. But on the table,” the girl stammered, “it wasn’t there when we went away.”

The Doctor stepped to the kitchen table. A newspaper lay on it.

“This is today’s newspaper but isn’t a local one.” He picked it up and looked at the front page. “Gazeta do Paraná. A Brazilian daily paper. Why is it here?”

“At the back, Doctor,” Andrew spoke. “The back.”

The Doctor turned the newspaper and ran over the articles with his eyes. Then he stopped at one of them.

“A crystal skull was found at the Mato Grosso,” he read incredulously. “They’ve found it.”

“And now?” Steph inquired.

“I’ll get to it somehow.” The Doctor threw the newspaper down and started towards the antechamber. “It says that the excavations are still going on. I go in, get it then come out. As easy as anything. Then I come back here and we really save the Colonel. Be good!” He opened the door but struck it back quickly.

“Doctor?” Steph looked at him uncomprehendingly. She still didn’t put the shoes off. “Is there a problem?”

The man turned to Andrew.

“Andrew, you’re coming with me after all!” His gaze was worried.

“Why?” Stephanie exclaimed angrily.

“It’s better if he comes with me.” The Doctor nodded bewilderedly but didn’t say any more.

Andrew sent an apologetic and bushed look towards Stephanie but disappointment burnt in the girl’s eyes.

The Doctor opened the door again but he threw it open this time. He heaved a sigh of relief.

“Andrew, come!” he spoke severely then turned back one-sidedly. “Stephanie, I’ll make this up to you once, really.” With this, he stepped out the door.

Andrew put his shoes back on and started after the Doctor. Stephanie closed the door sadly then hurried to the living room’s window to see the slowly vanishing TARDIS.

 

Dr Bernard looked at her with those eyes again. That worn look which signalled that he’s not very satisfied. His hand reached into his shirt pocket nervously to receive a rag. He took off his glasses then started to mop them absently. He breathed onto them from time to time and continued then dragged the piece of cloth over his sweating forehead. Then he put the rag away.

She knew this look well. Dr Bernard almost always rewarded her with this if they met. And he always mopped his glasses this nervously. She hated this look. The old doctor always did like as if all of the job would weigh onto his shoulder although everyone knew on the excavation that it isn’t like this. Bernard didn’t like to make his hands dirty; he sat in the tent all day and examined the findings with a magnifying glass, in gloves. From which, it seemed, they didn’t find enough; not as much as he would have expected.

“My dear,” Bernard spoke, “you know well what financial proceeds we will have if we don’t find something enormous. It cost a lot of trouble to prevail the committee upon the excavation. If we stand in front of them without an achievement…” He shrugged.

“We’re trying, doctor!” the woman replied impatiently. “But where isn’t anything, we can’t find anything there. We aren’t wonder-workers.”

“I know, my dear, I know that well.” The doctor nodded, pretending understanding. “I only remind you of…”

“You don’t have to!” his interlocutor pealed, shocking the old man.

However, before he could answer, one of the student co-workers rushed into the doctor’s linen tent.

“Senor Bernard, Senor Bernard!” he panted.

Bernard lifted his eyebrow but didn’t move. The Brazilian boy stood confused for half a minute then looked at the woman, asking for help.

“Senorita Holmes?“

The doctor didn’t speak even now but the woman rose from the chair. Bernard looked at the woman then spoke forcefully.

“Agatha, would you?”

“Of course I would!” the woman replied, then, not looking back, walked out of the tent with the student in her trail.

As they got far from the tent, Agatha blew out the air she kept back so far. It angered her excessively that Bernard is such a drip sometimes. The guy didn’t even lift a clod since they’re here whilst she and the others plodded on the excavation all day long. But they couldn’t do anything, the doctor was the boss and they had to accept it. She forced her shoulder-length, light brown hair back into the chignon then turned to the student.

“Tell me, Miguel, what is it?”

“We found something very strange, Senorita Holmes.” The boy spoke English with a very thick accent. “It doesn’t resemble to anything I met during my studies. I wouldn’t believe that…” He fell silent.

“What wouldn’t you believe?” Agatha came to a halt.

“That it’s worldly.” Miguel groaned quietly.

“Come on!” The woman nodded then went along. “What would we find here which isn’t worldly?”

“I don’t know, Senorita. But it’s so strange. We didn’t dare to touch it.”

Agatha shook her head quietly. The locals, even if they were literates, depended upon superstitions too much. The work was perturbed by spiritualists who thought that the excavation wakes up ancient ghosts. Sometimes they let us know about their opinions rather violently.

“If you didn’t touch it, then how do you know what is it?”

The boy knitted his brows but didn’t answer. Maybe he was ashamed of that he lets his parents’ superstitions exert this much influence on him.

“Then I’ll take a look at it!” Agatha started to grin as they arrived to the pit where they found the evidence.

There was no one in the pit but the ground was still fresh and wet; it could have been dug lately. On the ambient parcels the work went on like before. The familiar archaeologists and researchers in dusty clothes were bowing, digging and sweeping. One of them caught a glimpse of Agatha and waved towards her then turned back to his work. A couple of parcels away some of them tried to lift a huge femur out of the excavation’s pit carefully; this can be indication of that they find something big in the vicinity after all. Bernard can be pleased.

“So, what should I looking for?” the woman yelled up to the student while climbing down into the ditch.

“A skull,” Miguel said quietly. “But you’ll glimpse it, can’t miss it.”

Agatha thudded onto the bottom of the pit, showering tiny balls of earth onto her shoes. She could see something sparkle between heaps. She crouched down then swept the ground away with her hands. She saw a golden glint.

From between the clods an elegantly curved skull appeared, that was what was glinting. Whatever it was didn’t belong to a dinosaur. The skull was similar to a human’s and there wasn’t a trace of a crack. Could it be some kind of primeval mammal? Miguel was correct in thinking that textbooks don’t say anything about something like this. Maybe they’ve found a new link in the chain of human evolution. Bernard will jump out of his skin!

“Can you see, Senorita? This can’t be earthly,” Miguel shouted.

Agatha didn’t pay attention to the student. She was only interested in that strange, crystalline object which was lying at her feet. As if it was calling her. She felt that it glistens only for her with that unearthly, golden light. A story came into her mind, from her schooldays, which was about an archaeologist called Mitchel-Hedges and the crystal skull. If it was false, this surely isn’t. She reached towards it. After a founding like this, Bernard won’t be able to cheek her, she’ll tell that to the old man!

She set it free from the earth’s captivity and lifted it to her eyes. The sparkling escalated, the light-spears stung into her eyes. She felt as her mind starts to prickle and in the deepest part of her consciousness, a voice spoke to her.

“Agatha!” it called her.

“Senorita, are you alright?” she heard Miguel’s question but didn’t care.

She resigned herself to the skull.

 

Slowly flesh and skin loaded up onto the crystalline bones. The deep, wide orbits became more human. From under bent eyebrows the intent pair of eyes stared at her. The longish face filled up; long ringlet grew onto its cheeks and brown, spiky hair onto the top of the head.

Her hands weren’t clutching the skull but it was still levitate in front of her. It wasn’t only a head now, a very familiar head but a man stood opposite her. He wore a long brown coat above a blue suit. Strangely, he wore a pair of red-white trainers with it. He sank his hands into the coat’s pockets.

They were opposite each other previously but now he had his back to her. She knew this man. She knew him from somewhere. She wanted to talk to him but her mouth didn’t open to shout. The man didn’t pay attention to her. He was standing, still with his back on her. But in this frozen posture there was so much sadness, so much sorrow and so much loneliness.

But she was who left the man. How could she leave him when she doesn’t know him? Of course, she knows him! He saved her life. They were travelling together. They saw faraway worlds, met alien creatures. And she left him. She left him when she knew how horrible it is when he stays alone.

And now he was standing in front of her. But she couldn’t talk to him. To the man who saved her life. To the man who is known as the Doctor.

 

Agatha roused. She was lying on a camp bed in the infirmary tent. Miguel was sitting next to the bed on a shaky chair. As he caught a glimpse of the woman sitting upright, he recoiled.

“Are you alright, Senorita?” he asked carefully.

“Of course, Miguel, how would I be?” Her lips formed the words slowly.

Her head was still buzzing. But she was imbued by an immeasurable happiness.

How could she forget the Doctor? But she didn’t forget him! She remembers everything, every adventure. Everything was clear. Looking back now no moments came to her mind when she didn’t remember the Doctor. Things were a bit confused but she was sure that she’d always known the Doctor!

“Where is the skull?” she asked the boy suddenly.

“I’m sorry, Senorita!” The student fell his eyes. “My partner, Maya has contacts at one of the local periodico. A reporter was here, it’s already in the newspapers.”

“I think with Bernard’s name on it,” Agatha said bitterly.

She tried to stand up but swung. She stayed on her feet by catching the rail of the bed but she was feeling strongly dizzy.

“What am I doing here?” she asked sharply.

“We thought you’ll die, Senorita. You’ve been lying here for almost three days unconsciously and shouting for a doctor. It was treading in the camp,” he quietened his voice, “that you were possessed by the skull’s ghost. When you touched it, its glowing stopped. They presumed to see the Lobo Mau in you.”

“It’s fine, Miguel, I’m fine!” Agatha said, trying to convince herself as well.

So what she’d seen wasn’t real, only a dream or a vision. The Doctor wasn’t here. But it surely meant something.

As the nausea dissipated, ignoring Miguel’s worrying looks, she started towards the tent’s entrance. However, her way was blocked by the appearing Bernard.

“Why, Agatha, are you feeling better?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“Wonderfully!” the woman threw to him.

“Magnificent, my dear. They were informing me that a certain Dr John Smith visits us from the Committee of Archaeology, in the attendance of his assistant. He came probably because of the news of my discovery. Would you escort him to my tent? I will be waiting him with the skull there.”

“Of course, of course.” Agatha nodded but her mind was elsewhere.

The Doctor, her Doctor, often used the John Smith alias during their adventures. She was sure that he was who arrived. The vision called her attention to this, without fail.

She left the tent, grinning. It will be good, meeting the Doctor again.

 

Andrew and the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS’ doors. As the boy stepped out, the hotness, which he felt earlier, hit him again.

He felt as his face flushes and immediately starts to sweat. He wept his forehead and started after the Doctor who was already drifting imperturbably towards the booth which signalled the border of the excavation.

At their approach, a stubbly-faced Brazilian man sidled forward from the shed. He stopped them but when the Time Lord showed up the psychic paper, went back to his post and had a word with someone through a radio.

He was beckoning to them then let them into the site of the excavation.

Andrew realised with surprise that they are where they were before. There almost weren’t a trail of the wide-leafed plants, he only saw a couple of them here and there. The area was parcelled up. He noticed waist-height heaps of earth and working people in the distance. Tents were standing around him and a pleasant smell of meat was flowing towards him from one of them. They were cooking something.

Meanwhile the Doctor was observing the screwdriver, trying to find the skull with it. The device chirped quietly time and again; the green crystal was flashing between the bronze claws.

“This isn’t good!” the man spoke, menacingly.

“What’s the problem, Doctor?” Andrew drew closer to him.

“The sonic doesn’t perceive my regeneration energy. But it does feel the skull. Can it be, that it was already retrieved? It’s not good, not on any account,” he sputtered. “Time Lords’ energy can’t get into human hands. If it was a human, of course. If it was some kind of alien, one of my enemies…”

“Doctor?” a cheerful, feminine voice spoke behind them.

The Doctor and Andrew looked at each other in bewilderment, squibbing to turn.

“Did she say it like that?” Andrew asked him, suspiciously.

“I think so,” the Doctor replied quietly.

At last, they took a deep breath and turned almost in unison.

The woman who stood opposite them wore light-coloured, thin clothes. Her shoulder-sweeping, brown hair was dishevelled and she looked like as if she hasn’t combed her hair in a long time. On her neat face, the cheeriness was replayed by confusion.

“Doctor?” Her voice shook.

“Yes.” The Time Lord cleared his throat. “Doctor John Smith, from the Committee of Archaeology.”

As the Doctor spoke, the woman lightened. She smiled and sprang closer to them cheerfully.

“Of course you are!” she said; at the same time she hugged the Doctor and whispered into his ear. “You don’t have to act like this because of me, Doctor.”

Perplexity swept across the man’s face as the lady stopped in front of him. She looked at him as if she knows him. Andrew shifted from one foot to the other, confoundedly.

“Excuse me, do I know you?” the Doctor spoke.

“Of course you do,” the woman winked at him. “Can’t you remember? I see that you changed into a new body but you didn’t say that your memories would change. Agatha Holmes. Don’t you remember, either?”

“Agatha? I’ve known an Agatha but she was Christie.”

“Yes, you’ve said this when we met,” Agatha insisted. “Remember! Did something happen to you?”

“Doctor?” Andrew nudged the man when he fell silent more than half a minute ago.

However, the Time Lord was staring in front of him, bushed. It could be seen, that something troubled him in the woman and not only that she stated she knows him. Andrew admitted again that he doesn’t like to see the man bushed. That never leads to any good.

“I’m sorry, Agatha, but I wouldn’t believe that…”

“Did the skull do this?” the woman interrupted. “The light inside it was from you, it was your regeneration energy, was it? It looked like the same, the one that you took back from the Berserker probe.”

“What probe?”

“It can’t be possible that you can’t remember this, either!” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him after her. “Come, I’ll take you to the skull. Then you’ll hum a bit with your clever little screwdriver and we’ll solve this thing, I’m sure about it!”

Andrew shrugged then followed the woman, who was talking about these strange things, and the Doctor. They were sneaking between the tents until they reached one, whose sheet was elegantly folded.

Inside a standing ventilator fought against fealty with full force, swaying its head to and fro. A balding, spectacled man was sitting behind a foldaway table; in front of him, on the table, a magnifying glass and a skull lay. The Doctor was right; it wasn’t glinting from the yellow light. The energy emptied from it and the woman knew about it.

At their arrival, the man stood up from his place and offered a hand to the Doctor.

“Ah, Doctor Smith, welcome!” he said, suavely. “I am Dr Manfred Bernard. It is joyful that the Committee picked up on my discovery this soon. Come, sit down!” he waved towards the chair, standing on the other side of the table.

The Doctor sat down, then Bernard also took a seat. He stared at the man with glowing eyes, however, because Andrew and Agatha weren’t willing to leave, he knitted his brows.

“Agatha, you can go outside!” he waved with his hand. “Show the gentleman’s assistant around!”

Andrew walked out of the tent on the woman’s side who huffed a few times angrily. As they were out of range, Agatha turned to him.

“Are you hungry?”

Andrew nodded and together they started towards the canteen tent. Agatha asked for two bowls of fried meat from the cook then sat down at a table under the expanded sheet. Andrew cut a couple of slices for himself and started to eat. Agatha did the same.

“It isn’t that tasty but we have only this. So, what’s your name?” the woman asked, smiling, between two bites.

“Andrew.” He swallowed the part of meat in his mouth. “Andrew McAllistair.”

“Sorry that I was this rude, Andrew, but it upset me a bit that the Doctor doesn’t remember me, after those we went through together. Probably it isn’t his fault, something happened to him! Tell me, don’t you know what, by any chance?”

“Not really, miss, I’m sorry.”

“Call me Agatha!” the woman said convivially. “I start to sweat from ‘miss’. Since when do you travel with him?”

“I don’t really travel with him,” the boy shrugged. “He comes for me, from time to time. There’s something in my head, something which would mean my death. And he tries to cure me, just like how a doctor does it.”

“I’m sure! He’s very adept in boons. He saved so many planets: Verdania, New-Mondasia, Tarabild…”

“What are these?”

“Planets, on which we were together.”

“That can’t be. I know all of his adventures. They weren’t among them.”

“How would you know?” Agatha snapped at him.

“I saw them,” Andrew took up his own quarrel. “I read about them. Thanks for the Nayads, I’ve already became aware of every happened adventure.”

“What Nayads are you talking about?” The woman flushed. “Are you saying that I’m a liar, kid? Anyway, what things are you hoarding up? This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Neither does what you’re saying,” Andrew flared up sulkily. “Everyone knows the Doctor’s adventures. There’s not even a web story about you.”

“How would everyone know them?”

Both of them were on their feet already, the cutleries hit the plates, rattling. Andrew’s shyness from deep inside was changed into visceral fury. There was something strange about this woman, in her statements. And all of this filled him with anger.

But they couldn’t give out their revulsions because the Doctor appeared.

“Ah, here we are!” the man said, smiting his hands together.

“This was quick.” Agatha looked at him, as if her anger would have evaporated.

“Bernard wasn’t too helpful.” The Time Lord grimaced. “He thinks that I want to steal the fame which is entitled to him. He doesn’t give the skull here.”

“If you want, maybe I can elicit it from him,” Agatha offered.

The Doctor suddenly sniffed; he felt some kind of change in the air. Andrew noticed the tiny twitch of the man’s nose; his muscles tensed as he got ready to the worst, the attack of something alien. It seemed Agatha also understands the nose-twitching’s meaning because she also jockeyed into a posture, ready to jump.

Then all three of them froze as a deep male voice spoke from the shadow of one of the tents.

“I think you’re looking for this!”

The two time travellers and the woman turned into the man’s direction. For Andrew’s biggest bewilderment it was the guy who he saw in the house when Hart kidnapped him. He wore the same clothes; despite of the sweltering warmth, the brown scarf still hid his face.

In his gloved hands the Exeftri skull was held.


	14. Unknown Friend, Part Two

Andrew felt his knees trembling. Last time this guy shot at him. His blue uniform allowed the boy to think that the man can be the member of some kind of military organisation. Onto his rucksack, the same rifle was strapped from which he gave the shot. And now he was here and kept the skull in his hand which the Doctor needed. It seemed, he came to help. Andrew didn’t understand anything.

“You?” the Doctor finally spoke. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re welcome!” the man growled while he put the skull down onto the canteen table.

“How did you come here?” the Time Lord questioned him further. “You were in London previously.”

“With an express,” the scarfy threw at him.

“It was him who you saw from the door?” Andrew asked the time traveller.

The Doctor nodded.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him! At least for now,” he squinted at the uniformed. “He nursed your mother when she was stunned until I arrived.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, kid, I didn’t hurt her!” The man was grinning under the scarf. “And now, if we’re finished…”

“We’re not finished!” Agatha yelled at him. “You stole the skull!”

“Something like that,” the man shrugged.

“You won’t go anywhere!”

“Miss, I appreciate your anxiety, really, but the Doctor needs it.”

“Don’t call me Miss!”

“Agatha, calm down!” The Doctor took off his jacket then twined the skull into it. “He’s right, it’s really vital for the skull to be with me. And safer, from the Earth’s point. If you really know me, then you know that I’m not talking into the air.”

“Alright.” The woman tamed down. “But who is this, after all?”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor spoke quietly.

“What does it mean, you don’t know?”

“My name doesn’t matter,” the man interrupted. “Only the boy’s safety.”

All three of them looked at Andrew.

“My safety?” the lad asked. “But still, who are you?”

“I told you, it’s irrelevant. My presence henceforward isn’t needed. My compliments, Doctor!” He discarded his index and middle fingers from his forehead, facetiously. “Miss!”

“You won’t go anywhere!” Agatha snapped at him again. “If Andrew’s safety is that important, then stay here and look after him! Until then, me and the Doctor find out where his memories went.”

“Look, Miss!” The man appeared in front of Agatha with a jump, his finger touching her chest. “You don’t give me orders, is that clear?”

“Don’t call me Miss!”

“Enough!” The Doctor’s forceful voice sounded. “Agatha, we have a more important task, and that is saving a man’s life. When that’s done, we can get to something else. And you,” he turned to the scarfy, “are staying with us! You’re too involved in this case.”

“Then we’re going, Doctor?” Andrew asked.

“Yes. We’re going!”

 

Agatha couldn’t understand the least what was happening here.

She hoped that she’ll meet the Doctor again; maybe they have a last adventure together. Instead this sharp-chinned man welcomed her. She was sure about that she sees the Doctor but didn’t understand why he didn’t remember her and the adventures they lived through together. Firstly, she thought that she sees one of his previous incarnations but his eyes were too old for that. This gaze was older and more shattered than her Doctor’s. And he forgot everything about the both of them for some reason!

After that, here was this boy called Andrew, who stated that the Doctor has never met her; he hasn’t even been on those places which they saved together. The boy accused her of untruth, unashamedly.

And now this scarfed guy was with them who somehow stole the skull from Bernard. She knew at once that she won’t like him. The man’s sharp demeanour hurt her pride.

They were in the Doctor’s TARDIS which didn’t look like the one she remembered. Silvery performance, blue lights burning everywhere. But the console was still divided into six parts; the Time Lord once told here that it was originally planned for six pilots. Maybe the box reborn when its owner did.

The scarfed man stood gruffly, leaning against the rail; it troubled him that he needs to be in the box. He wasn’t surprised on that the box is bigger on the inside. Or if he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Andrew was standing on the other side of the control panel; it seemed he still feared the guy.

The skull was lying on the counter while the Doctor was pushing buttons and located the destination. He sometimes looked at the monitor.

“Now, we just go for Stephanie then bring Fawcett away from under the cap!” His words were addressed to Andrew.

However, the TARDIS shook. Then stopped almost immediately.

The Doctor was staring at the monitor in amazement.

“It can’t be!” he exclaimed. “Something pulled us out of the Time Vortex. And doesn’t let us go!”

“Doctor!” the boy spoke. “The skull is glowing!”

All of them looked there. The bluish light broke through the jacket’s fabric.

“This did it!” Agatha pointed out.

“But how?” the Doctor mused.

“Examine it!” The woman shook her head, smiling. “Use the TARDIS!”

“Of course, of course.” The Doctor started to run his fingers over the keyboard to set the ship’s scanners onto the skull.

The information was flashing on the monitor, fast as light.

“The skull is called by something,” the Time Lord explained. “At least, the TARDIS doesn’t know a better word for it. Something is calling it and that is over the box’s doors.”

He clutched the swaddled skull then ran suddenly to the white-boarded doors. He jumped out of the ship. His three companions followed him.

“We’re at the same place where we found it,” the Doctor cheerfully exclaimed. “We just left with Andrew,” he added.

The skull was glowing with a brighter and brighter light.

“Now I can hear its call as well!” the Doctor spoke.

“Are you okay?” Agatha asked, her voice worried.

“Perfectly. Exeftri is a telepathic species. Their skulls stay a telepathic walkie-talkie after their death; sometimes their last thoughts can also be heard. There has to be one more on the other side of the shield. They’re calling us through it. We can get through the shield this way; the call can open a tunnel.”

Ten minutes later, they were standing at the edge of the shield. The Doctor got ready for going in.

“Doctor?” Andrew patted him on the shoulder. “What about Fawcett’s description? What about Stephanie?”

“He’ll rewrite it,” the scarfy growled.

“It doesn’t work like that.” The boy shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Andrew, but maybe it does. The call is very strong, I almost can’t resist it. Maybe it’s a chance, which won’t come back again, to get in. Deep breath!” He said as he started towards the shield. “And let’s hope that we do no trouble!”

They were watching quietly as the Doctor was swallowed by the invisible wall. They gave worried glances to each other then they also got ready and stepped through the shield.

They found themselves on a roomy, dark corridor. The top of the high, stone-made walls disappeared from view, just like the end of the line. On the walls, torches burnt in antique steel-holders. The skull’s light subsided then completely vanished.

They looked around, marvelling.

“So, this is Ceiba,” Andrew whispered, quietly.

The walls were occupied by creepers and liana hung from the ceiling. The air was fusty, although they felt the wind whooshing from outside.

“The call ended,” the Doctor stated, disappointed.

He turned and walked to the shield. He prodded the invisible wall over with his hand. Then he lowered his head despondently and put the skull onto the ground.

“Just as I suspected.” His voice became apologetic. “There’s no way back. I hurried, I hurried too much, didn’t think it through. I made a mistake.”

“No problem, Doctor!” Agatha stepped to him. “We’ll think of something.”

“Maybe we could discover the place!” the scarfed man spoke while he took his rifle into his hands.

“Are you insane?” the woman yelled at him. “You want us to go into the dark?”

“Look, miss!” the guy grunted. “I don’t know who you think you are…”

“Who I think I am?” Agatha hit the roof. “At least, let me see your face if you’re talking to me!” With this, she appeared in front of the man and reached for his scarf.

The guy wasn’t ready, couldn’t catch the woman’s hand who wrenched the brown cloth from him. Agatha jumped back, flabbergasted, as she saw his scar which ran from his chin to his forehead.

But the Doctor and Andrew were more surprised than she was.

“His face just like…” the boy started.

“But his eyes…” the Doctor backpedalled.

“Are my mother’s,” the man said, primly while he took the scarf back from Agatha. “They’ve said this before. Robert Adams Junior, at your service.”

 

“But how old are you?” the Doctor asked, walking beside Adams.

They decided to follow the man’s advice and made their way. Adams got out a couple of beacon-light rods from his bag; they were lighting with those.

The boy’s fright passed as he knew who the man is. However, Agatha’s suspicion didn’t slip away. Now the scarf was twirled around his neck loosely so he could talk uninterruptedly.

“I became fifty last year,” he shrugged.

“You don’t seem that old.”

“I know. It’s because of my mother’s genetic structure. I’m aging slowly; my physical condition is like a thirty-year-old’s. And Torchwood puts exactly this to use.”

“So they hauled you here?” Andrew inquired.

“I came by myself.” He poked at the bag with his thumb. “Teleportation. Drew, my father’s colleague, put a lot of energy into it.”

“But why do you attend to Andrew?” the Time Lord pointed another question at him.

“Not only to him. From Archie’s accreditation, I’m watching your former and current companions. Not only UNIT keeps an eye on them. Thanks for the teleporter, I can be on the location immediately and interfere. And if I see the situation correctly,” he squinted back to Agatha, “now my to-do list flared with one more item.”

“Are we recorded?” The boy was surprised.

“Everywhere. Except in the bathroom,” Adams started to grin. “Archie didn’t allow that.”

“Stop!” The Doctor’s voice clung in a crossing then he brought out his sonic. “Can you feel it? Like tiny electric discharges. Or waves. Maybe that’s the better expression for it. As if something would resonate.” He pointed at one of the corridors with the sonic. “And they’re coming from there.”

They started into the signalled direction, in a column. Andrew was walking beside the Doctor, the boy was followed by Agatha and Adams stayed to be a quarterback.

Agatha was more and more worried about the situation. She had a lot of dangerous trips by the Doctor’s side; she’d already seen angry Verdans, apathetic Cybermen and she’d met living dinosaurs but was in a sweat from this place. Very bad feelings were besetting her. She touched her neck in worry and twisted the chain of her necklace around her index finger. She didn’t believe that she could gain some strength from it but it still calmed her.

She suddenly noticed something from the corner of her eye. As if the shadow could have come to life and swish past her. As she watched the stop where she saw the movement, she felt time slow down.

“Doctor!” she shouted but the man didn’t reply.

She was sure that she saw something move in the twirling darkness.

“Doctor!” she repeated the yell but there wasn’t an answer, either.

She let go of the necklace and ran next to the man.

“Doctor, why don’t you reply?”

The man stared at her with stunned eyes, and so did Andrew. The boy also took a step backwards.

“But you didn’t speak,” the Time Lord swallowed.

“I did, twice. How is that you didn’t hear it? I saw something,” she whispered. “Something’s here with us.”

The Doctor looked around suspiciously, keeping the screwdriver in front of him like a foil.

“Where did you see? Show me!”

“Between the shadows.” Agatha pointed where she discovered the shadow-creature.

The Doctor walked there slowly but didn’t find anywhere. He shrugged then turned towards the woman.

“There’s nothing here.”

“Because you’re searching the wrong way,” a deep, funereal voice spoke.

“What?” The Doctor froze. “I know this voice.”

“It came from that way.” Adams pointed towards the end of the corridor while aiming his telescoped rifle forward.

The little team started running and arrived into a roomy coliseum.

The room was margined by high pillars which were similarly overgrown by convolvuluses. In the middle of the chamber some kind of sanctuary heightened from which a forceful tree rose towards the sky. On the walls tiny caps nestled which were made from some kind of glass-like material. Distinct golden objects were lying, scattered on the stone floor.

“I wish I had a gravi-orb!” The Doctor sighed while walking to the sanctuary.

Agatha kept the weakly-blinking rod away from her, as if she would see more that way. The little team stood around the podium. The Time Lord ran the sonic over it then read the result.

“It isn’t man-made,” he hemmed. “It’s older than that. The material which was used, the ornamental patterns… I think this is a Homo Reptilia sanctuary.”

“So this is their town?” Andrew asked.

“Supposedly. But it was named by Fawcett.” The Doctor knocked on the tree’s stem. “This is a Ceiba Tree. He probably concluded that if it’s on a central place like this, it has something to do with the town as well. But it’s inhabited for a long time. However, someone welcomed Fawcett a couple of months ago.”

“Me,” the already-heard voice spoke again then something appeared in the dim light-cycle.

 

Andrew’s mouth stayed open as he glimpsed the approaching figure. It seemed, he wore a hooded black chiton from under which his bone-white hands and face showed but it wreathed as if it would be made from the shadow itself. He wore a strange device on one of his fingers.

His face was pale and tiny, sharp teeth lined up in his mouth. He didn’t have eyes, only barren orbits. But it was still univocal that he was ‘watching’ the Doctor. His death’s-head-grin made him frightening. A strange chill surged from him.

Agatha jumped backwards and the uniformed stood into a shooting position.

“He met me, Doctor,” the creature repeated.

“Well, well, the Trickster,” the Time Lord spoke quietly.

“You?” Agatha shouted. “You’re responsible for this as well?”

“Agatha?” The Doctor was taken aback. “You two know each other?”

“This bastard is the one who’s responsible for Rassilon’s death!” the woman shouted, accusingly.

The Trickster hissed fumingly.

“What?” The Doctor lifted his eyebrows. “No, the Master finished with Rassilon.”

Andrew has never seen the man this lost. It could be seen that he can’t put things onto their place. He saw this look the last time, when they first met.

“He brought Rassilon out of the Time War,” Agatha sputtered angrily, “to recreate the Time Lords with the Eye. But we balked his plans! You wanted to take revenge this way?” She turned towards the creature. “By taking his memories?”

“I always forget that how worm and inept your humanity is,” the Trickster spoke detachedly. “They don’t look further than themselves.”

The Doctor’s gaze flashed up. Andrew knew this look as well. The Time Lord guessed the riddle.

“You did it, after all,” he pointed at the alien. “You changed something in her past, didn’t you? Something which caused us not to meet.”

“It wasn’t her past.” The Trickster tilted his head to the side. “Only a tiny probe’s which never arrived to Earth. And this intervention bestowed a large amount of energy upon me.”

“But if you really set Rassilon free… No one can change their own actions, neither can you!” His eyes widened. “Unless… Oh, no! Tell me you didn’t!”

The Trickster opened his mouth like someone who gets ready to answer but he didn’t speak yet. Adams looked at the interlocutors, bushed. They didn’t look like enemies but chess partners who debate their steps during a game.

“I didn’t become the Nayads’ slave,” the alien spoke at last. “I didn’t give up my mind like that Dalek did which rescued Davros from the War.” His voice was full of disdain. “I lived with the offered power! And I became more powerful than everything.” He spread his hands.

“Then why do you cool your heels here?” the Doctor asked then his mouth quirked to a grin. “They noticed, didn’t they? They realised that you wouldn’t serve them and they exiled you here. Phenomenal cosmic powers and itty bitty living space! The shield doesn’t have to keep me out but to keep you in.”

“And now you as well.” The Trickster also started to grin. “Because you were stupid enough to answer a human’s call.”

“So Fawcett wasn’t here?”

“Yes, he was. He somehow got through the shield, he and his son. He was dying. I made leaving easier for him, and he wrote the diary’s last pages in return. And the boy took the book away.”

“And what do you want with us?” Agatha spoke.

“With you? Nothing.” The creature waved. “You will die like every earthly. Until then, feel yourselves at home.” He added scornfully. “And we will chat with the Doctor for ever.”

Agatha took a step aside but when she saw that the Trickster really doesn’t pay attention to her, started. Adams shrugged and followed her and Andrew stayed beside the Doctor.

 

“What are you doing, Miss?” the man called after Agatha.

“There has to be something here.” The woman made no notice of the invocation; she was examining the items scattered on the floor. “Maybe if we corner him, he lets us out of here. We’ll get it sorted with the Doctor.”

“Didn’t you listen to him?” Adams grabbed her arm. “You never had adventures together. About you believe you lived through together didn’t happen. Moreover, he’s a prisoner as well.”

“Look!” The woman freed her hand. “I don’t believe what the Trickster says. It would be better if you wouldn’t do that, either! His name is sneak enough. Help me instead!”

The man obeyed at last and crouched down to examine a couple of fist-sized, carved gold orbs.

“And what are we looking for?” the man rolled his eyes.

“Something that would be dangerous for him,” the woman shrugged, nodding her head towards the alien.

“Don’t you say!”

Agatha huffed angrily but felt for something in silence. She heard as the Doctor and the Trickster were talking. The alien didn’t show any sign of intention of hurting anyone. She pondered over what he had said. Would it be true, that she had memories of a false life on her brain? However, she jumped back to reality when her hand seized a long stave whose end was ornamented with a double cross.

“Doctor!” she exclaimed.

The Time Lord and his companion hurried to her straight away. The Trickster didn’t move but turned to them.

“What are these?” The Doctor wrinkled his forehead.

“My collection,” the Trickster rattled.

“Don’t tell me that you started to tinker in boredom!” The Time Lord grimaced.

He bent and lifted the stave.

“It resembles to the Eye,” Agatha spoke.

“You stole technology from the Time Lords!” the Doctor shouted. “And if I see it correctly, from the Nayads as well!”

“I only borrowed them, before my eternal captivity.” The Trickster waved. “But all of them is useless, the science of your people worth this much. It can’t get me out of here.”

“Doctor, there’s another skull here,” Adams spoke. “This could be what called you in. Can’t it take us out?“ He picked up the crystal object.

“It doesn’t work like that.” The Doctor shook his head. “We could come in because the telepathic call ran across the shield’s wall like a tunnel.”

“So if I would say, ‘Come in!’, someone would hear that in the other skull?”

“What did you say?” The Time Lord wrinkled his forehead. “I’ve heard this. This call. Your voice! How did I not realise?”

All of them watched the man who started to grin. The Trickster moved and slipped towards the Doctor.

But the Doctor stood on guard. He smote the ground with the stave held in his hand and a wide, bluely smouldering energy-wall shot out which separated them and the alien.

“You could sidestep it because it goes from wall to wall.” The Time Lord grinned. “And I’m sure you know the way leading here because you’re here for so long. But we’ll be finished by then.”

The Trickster swam back into the shadows, hissing, and soon vanished. But the Doctor didn’t wait for that.

“Adams, teleport out of here with the skull!”

“Didn’t you say that we can’t go away?”

“You can go out. You could have done so this far, just like Fawcett and his son. You’re human. And this is the most wonderful in this.”

“Doctor, I don’t understand,” Agatha admitted.

“Oh, but you will, dear Agatha, soon. Adams, do it! Then come back and whatever you find here, take that out the same way. Come on, come on!”

Adams activated the teleport-device and disappeared with the skull. Then he appeared again and took a gold orb then teleported out again.

Meanwhile the Doctor’s two companions, doing as the Time Lord’s instructed, collected the items lying on this part of the room and piled them for Adams to have an easier job. And the Doctor was explaining with pleasure.

“The Nayads planned the prison for the Trickster. This is exactly what keeps him captive, the energy which invigorates him. Time energy. We can’t go out because Andrew and I are time travellers. And you, Agatha, got in touch with my regeneration energy so you also got some of this. But Adams didn’t so he can leave freely. Don’t forget that, either!” he shouted at the man when he got back, pointing at a cloak. “The shield will stand here forever, even if the Earth gets destroyed beneath it. Its purpose is to keep the Trickster inside. It spins here like a centrifuge so Adams can arrive in any time. But this isn’t the important thing.”

“But that he takes the relics out,” Andrew enlightened. “The mixed technology?”

“Yes,” Agatha also started to smile. “They’re leaving trails, aren’t they, Doctor? It wasn’t the telepathic call which we came in with. Because there wasn’t a call, only Adams’ thoughts got stored in it.”

“Exactly, Agatha. It seems you really were my partner somewhere!” The woman blushed at the Doctor’s words.

Adams appeared again. He picked up a host of rings.

“What about these?”

“Take them one by one! And go as further as you can! The trail will be that more significant.”

Even if Adams didn’t understand the order, didn’t question it. He nodded and continued with teleporting in and out.

“It has to be imagined,” the Doctor continued to explain, “as if we would be prodding the side of a balloon with tiny needles. The wall will weaken. And we can get out.”

“And the Trickster?”

“He can’t, I told you, he gains his power from the energy of alternative realities. That’s too much to get out on those so little cracks. I can hear him coming!” His grin didn’t subside.

Adams appeared again but at the same time the angrily shouting Trickster also spouted from one of the tunnels.

“Come on, Adams, leave it! And now: run!”

They started to run, with the raving alien on their wake. With the Doctor’s lead they went into the direction from where they came into the coliseum. The Time Lord was almost intoxicated by his own triumph. Although the Torchwood agent was lagging behind at first, he soon chalked up to the Doctor himself.

“How many rounds did you go?” he asked Adams.

“A bit more than fifty, I don’t know for sure.”

“That will be enough,” the Doctor said reassuringly.

At last they reached the spot where they entered Ceiba. The jacket-swathed skull was still resting there. The Doctor unpacked it then let Agatha pick it up. He brought out the sonic and whirred at the skull with it.

“Great, just like this. Agatha, go! A stable tunnel will take shape until I don’t step out of it with the sonic. And the skull leads you where we arrived from.”

Agatha nodded then stepped through the shield, her face radiating from delight.

The Doctor was right; she really ended up on the same place. The TARDIS was resting there not far from her. She turned and waited the others’ arrival. With a little delay Adams and Andrew also appeared. But the Doctor was late.

 

“Adams, you go now!” the Doctor shouted but came to a halt at the Trickster’s voice.

“Don’t leave something here, Doctor!” he spoke evilly.

The Doctor turned and saw the alien in front of him whose pale fingers rested around Andrew’s head. The boy tried to escape in vain.

Adams caught his rifle into his hand and shot but the bullet passed over the shadows without a problem, only stirring them up.

“The Nayads made a big mistake when they placed their little signal on the boy: they left the Earth out of the range, here would be his biggest enemies. But we can alter this.”

The boy screamed, then the alien swung him and Andrew arrived in front of the Doctor, squeaking. Adams stepped to him and helped him up.

“Take him out!” the Doctor yelled at him.

Adams pushed Andrew, who was still gripping his head, through the invisible wall then he threw himself out as well.

“You think you’re a hero?” the Trickster stood in front of him. “You gave weapons to mankind with my devices.”

“I know,” the Doctor nodded, primly. “But I also know that they won’t destroy themselves. I believe in them! This planet isn’t full of Ewvars.”

He turned his back on the alien.

“You can’t avoid them, Doctor. No one can. On one occasion, you’ll also have to make a deal!”

The Doctor didn’t reply, just stepped through the shield, leaving the Trickster alone.

 

The Doctor and his partners were standing on Bernard’s excavation, beside the TARDIS. All of them were tired and still felt the excitement of the adventure in their bones.

The skull was held in Adams’ hand and he already put the scarf back in front of his face.

“Don’t worry, Andrew,” he turned to the boy, “I’ll talk to Archie and make him rearrange my schedule. I’ll keep my eyes on your house, this will be my priority. My mother could thank you her life and I’ll take care of yours.”

“Tell your boss to lock the skull nicely! A couple of more fixing and it can be a direct way into the Trickster’s prison.”

“Yes, sir. My compliments, Doctor! Andrew! Ms Holmes!”

“And what about me?” Agatha asked worriedly.

“It’s sure that I won’t take care of you, Miss!” Adams threw to her.

“I didn’t...” Agatha pealed but the Torchwood agent already vanished. “I meant…” she turned to the Doctor.

“What life could you live?” The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. “The life which the other Agatha could live in another reality. Who you think you know, they don’t know you in reality.”

The woman sighed, sadly.

“The images of a false life stay in my head. Andrew was right. The adventures, the doughty deeds didn’t happen.”

“No.” The Time Lord gripped her shoulder. “Don’t conceive it like this! What is this?” The Doctor’s fingers touched the necklace.

Agatha got out the chain from which two golden rings were hanging.

“You took this from the Trickster’s collection?” the man spoke accusingly.

“No. I got it from my ex-boyfriend years ago. They were excavating in Montereggioni, it’s from there. He always told me that one, some kind of four-membered grave robber gang went into the town and they carried every merit away. I believed not a word from it. But the rings are nice.”

“And they aren’t from around here,” the Doctor nodded. “They can be worthless for human eyes but they were made by the Trickster and they can’t be put into human hands.”

“Then take them!” Agatha unbuckled the necklace and lowered the rings from it. “Find them a better place.”

“Oh, I know exactly, where is the best place for them!” the Doctor winked.

Agatha got ready to go but she turned back.

“Will you come back for me?”

“I don’t know,” the Time Lord shook his head. “I can’t promise anything. I’m not good at keeping them. Goodbye, Agatha!”

“Goodbye, Doctor!” The woman started towards the camp; she seemed very broken.

“Can’t you help her, Doctor?” Andrew asked, while stepping into the box.

“No. And what happened is a lot more worrying like this.” While he was talking, he was fussing about at the control panel again. “She got a little portion from my energy. It could have caused developed senses, anatomic changes but instead it ripped the texture, dividing realities and she got the memories of another her. And it means that the Nayads get closer and closer to attain their aim, breaking through the borders of reality.”

“That’s not good,” the boy shook his head, brooding.

“It really isn’t. But I’ll take you home now; you can’t stay in the TARDIS. And Adams will keep an eye on you, as he promised.”

“And where will you go after that?”

“I’ll visit Jenny. Last time, on Lohker-Biz, I gave her the TARDIS control room which I tinkered in the House’s cemetery. I think it’s a truly relevant paternal gift, if I give her the wonders of the Universe.” He started to smile.

“But what can she do with that?”

“Vik is a superb mechanic and Jenny is adept in Time Lord science. Then they will build it into their ship. And they will be able to use it after they find a driving force for it.”

“Then it wasn’t a very useful present,” Andrew started to grin.

“I can’t do everything instead of them. I’ll let them sort it out! I also gained my time machine myself.”

Andrew laughed and the TARDIS landed.

“And what will you do with the rings?”

“I’ll find a box for them. Goodbye Andrew!”

The lad stepped through the door; the box was standing opposite their house. He noticed Adams from the corner of his eye as the man disappears in the shadow of the neighbouring house’s gate.

“Oh!” the Doctor yelled after him. “And apologise your sister in my name! On one occasion I’ll really take her on that behindhand journey.”

Andrew nodded.

“Goodbye, Doctor!” He closed the box’s door behind him and she vanished, screeching.

He lived through strange things this time as well; the danger preying upon him, it seemed, became bigger but he also enriched a guarding angel. At the latter, he didn’t know whether to be glad or be in a fret about it. But he was sure that he wouldn’t be in his own skin when he tells Stephanie about the happenings.

 

_Now, that Andrew is noticed by our planet,_

_A mysterious threat immediately makes an appearance._

_The party is a scientist, who chases a strange dream,_

_His desires will get the boy into mischief._

_It seems that his power is limitless,_

_Because he overruns the laws of time without problems._

_Moreover, who will appear from the past is the Doctor’s friend,_

_From the renaissance Rome: Giovanni Auditore._

**_Note: Andrew was mistaken, Agatha does have a web series; her adventures are written by Kenneth Whitaker._ **


	15. Doctor Mini - The Lion's Cave

Heavy, dark clouds thickened on the city of Glasgow and stole the last rays of the slowly setting sun from it. A quiet rain sifted; the kind of spray which gets through every tiny crack and everything gets wet because of it.

Although the traffic was just as big as it is on any other day, the spit unmanned everyone from a walk so only a couple of passers-by could be seen on the streets, enveloped in their raincoat.

The cars’ windscreen wipers went right and left studiously; the drivers sighing tiredly while waiting the green signal at the traffic lights. One of them, a man, sitting in a black station wagon, nervously drummed on the steering wheel with his fingers. When the lamp changed at last, he expelled the index and turned down from Renfrew Road.

As he drove through a stone fence’s high steel gate, stopped the engine. He got out of the car and looked back at the gate. From the back, he saw the neat letters, curved from steel, which advertised tiredly that he stepped over the border of the Arkleston Cemetery. He fixed his glasses, pulled a brown balloon coat onto himself but didn’t cover his spiky, blond hair with a hat. He didn’t mind if it gets wet.

From the wood-lodge near the fence, a specular-vest wearing guard hurried out, whereof the man rummaged up an ID from the coat’s pocket. The guard took a sullen look at it then he let the man go on his way.

The rain kept the visitors away from the cemetery as well. He only met a black-dressed woman on his way when he cut through the road, rowed between graves. He looked at the woman, to the tune of a passing glance, but he didn’t stop. He knew this feeling full well, he saw a lot of mourning pair of eyes.

Upon arriving at a crossing, he came to a halt and looked around. As he caught a glimpse of the man who he was looking for in the world of white graves, he quickly estimated, from which direction he can get to the other man sooner. He pulled the coat tighter around himself as a sudden gust of wind raced through the cemetery. He was watching his target continuously, which did as if he didn’t feel the wind or the rain. He was standing stiffly, resting his hands in the pockets of his blue uniform. The wind was picking at the brown scarf, which was twisted around his neck, and his long dark hair but it didn’t bother him, either. He was only staring at the double grave in front of him.

As he got nearer, he read the names which were carved into the marble, not as if he didn’t know what are on them; he did it only from habit. The grave was Robert Adams’ and Astrid Gresham’s, two former Torchwood agents’. Of course, there were no bodies or coffins in the pits, dug under the laid marble-sheets. But the grave’s being calmed their son who now stood in front of them.

Maybe he came for advice, maybe to brood. It wasn’t his place to judge that.

“I thought that you’ll be here,” he spoke quietly when he was only a couple of steps away from the other.

The younger Adams turned to him, not at all surprised.

“Max!” Adams welcomed him with a nod, sternly. “If Archie sent you, you troubled yourself to no end.”

“I didn’t come because of him,” Max wrinkled his forehead, “but this doesn’t change that you messed it up last time.”

“I know,” Adams shrugged.

“And this exactly, why I came. We have to make right what you stalled off.”

“How big is the trouble?”

“It could have been worse. A huge advantage was guaranteed for us, thanks for your parents,” he pointed towards the grave, “we knew about the boy before he was born. Archie is lobbying at UNIT’s top dogs to maintain this advantage. Apart from them, if anyone received the McAllistair-signals, they can’t interpret them. Except one person.”

“I really started to hope that this will be a happy end,” Adams sighed then looked at Max. “Who’s that?”

“The problem is that I don’t know,” a dark shadow swept over Max’s face. “The signal was processed in a Roman office block but I can’t hack their server. But if we could connect manually…”

“Let me guess: I have to break in.”

“I brought everything.” Max reached into his pocket and put a tiny flash drive onto Adams’ open palm. “Connect this to the server! Then I can get in. And on this,” he passed over an earpiece, “we can communicate; it can’t be disturbed or intercepted. Theoretically.”

“I don’t like this word.” The other man shook his head.

Adams fitted the communicator into his ear, put the flash drive away then vanished from Max’s eyes who started back to the laptop, left in his car.

 

“I’m in,” Adams spoke into the communicator, while he took hold of the grip of his rifle. He started to fear that he’ll break it one day.

As he teleported back to the base to take his weapon, Max already sent the coordinates to him. Within moments he was standing on one of the highest floors of the ten-level office block. Here because Max saw only this position on the pictures of the satellite records. Oddly, he couldn’t get at the building’s blueprints, which worried Adams. There are only a few things which Max can’t hack or download. And if something is like this… Well, Adams didn’t like blind-flights.

The building was already empty, the employees went home to enjoy the muggy, Roman evening. The stand-by lighting was working but it wasn’t the lack of light which bothered Adams. There still had to be enough guards on the corridors. He didn’t want to run into either of them so he progressed as carefully as he could towards the lower floors with one of them, on which Max suspected the server room to be.

For his biggest surprise, it went smoothly. And Max’s suspicion was proven true as well. He felt as the alarm bell starts to ring in a hidden corner of his mind but he ignored it. He had a task which he had to fulfil. Moreover, he caused the problem with that he made the Doctor to take Andrew with him. The boy once saved his mother’s life and he reciprocated it by getting him into bigger trouble.

He entered the room where there wasn’t anyone, either. Between the enormous server houses he tried to find the place where he can plug in the device which he got from his colleague. He leant his rifle against one of the houses then knelt down to scrutinise everything.

“Search for a type SS-F350!” Max’s voice spoke in the earpiece.

“In English? And don’t dare to say that it’s a big rectangular whatsit!” Adams snarled at him.

But he found the place at last which Max signalled with a content exclaim.

“Okay, I’m in!” he whopped.

In this moment, the light was switched on in the room. The sudden brightness made Adams wink his eyes but he was still able to jump onto his feet and turn around. He found himself face to face with four men who were equipped with stun guns and pistols. The guards. He knew that it went too easily.

“I hope you enjoyed the discovery of the building!” Someone talked to him through speakers.

The interlocutor’s voice was elderly and tired, a mild German accent mixed into his words.

“Don’t I have the honour to Erudito?” the man continued, almost with pleasure.

Adams shrugged. He didn’t know who the party could be who can evidently see him, not only hear but if he already offered a chance maybe it will be good to live with that. Whoever is this Erudito, it seemed they expected him. Then let them not to be disappointed.

“Yes, I am.” He bowed his head like a criminal who has his crimes read upon him.

“I didn’t ask you!” The elder’s voice cracked. “But your friend, on the other end of the line. You’re unequivocally not him. Erudito makes a more precise job than giving his head to break in. But I would be disappointed if he sent you after all.” He laughed out loud.

“Occupy him, I’ll finish soon.” Max’s voice was nervous.

“I’m sure about that.” The man grinned, Adams was sure about it.

So they succeeded in intercept Max’s communicator. ‘That’s about it!’ Adams huffed resentfully.

“Until your friend finishes his exploration, we could talk,” the old man offered. “It’s truly imposing how you got in to us. Your method is very… unique. So I would like to know your name.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Oh!” the other exclaimed. “I knew I know you.”

Adams heard as his interlocutor pushes switches then suddenly heard his own voice from the speakers.

‘It doesn’t matter now. Only the boy. Let’s leave my name in talon.’

Then another recording.

‘My name doesn’t matter. Only the boy’s safety.’

Adams was sure that confusion was written on his face but he couldn’t will his muscles. He was lucky because the scarf covered him, like before.

“I would be interested in what is so important in this boy,” the talker continued. “You know. My boss also knows. Only I don’t know. Of course, it’s only a matter of time.” He giggled again. “Well? Did your friend finish?”

“Rob, pull out that stuff!” Max shouted into the communicator. “It changed the direction! They’re hacking us!”

Adams appeared at the flash drive, expecting the guards to make a pounce on him immediately. But they didn’t move, not lifting their pistols, either.

He snatched the device from its place then jumped to the rifle but they let him pick it up.

“You release me?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes. You can’t do anything. And you’re right to the full, if we finish, your name won’t matter by a long way. No more, to no one.”

The static thrill signalled that the speakers were turned off. Adams lifted the rifle to his chest but the guards weren’t moving. He felt himself humiliated and ashamed as he left the room. Now he left the building by walk; he didn’t want them to film the teleportation by any chance. When he was far enough from the office block, huddled up in the shadow of a house and vanished.

 

“What the hell was this, Max?” Adams yelled as he got to his colleague’s car.

“I don’t know, Rob.” Max’s glasses stood on his nose droopily. “They’re very pro and shelled back the Torchwood technology.”

“Did you get to know something?” Adams asked as he got into the passenger seat.

“Nothing substantive. I could only download a project list. But I think they gave this as a gift.” He puckered up his lips. “As if they would want to scare us.”

“Why? What is it in there?”

Max turned the laptop towards Adams.

_Project 21: DELAYED_

_Project Rapture: FAILED_

_Project Aperture: FAILED_

_Project Timeshift: FAILED_

“What’s so scary in this?” Adams inquired as his partner took the laptop back.

“Look what they planned: society underwater, portal opening, time travel!” Max blinked at him, abashed.

“And?”

“And? There’s no and. All of these could have worked. Everything was ready, ever. These guys made all these! But there always was an unknown factor which wrecked it.”

“You think that this Erudito could have done it?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know anything from now.” Max laughed hysterically. “These are way before us. Maybe they also run rings around UNIT’s equipment.”

“Then why don’t we anything about them?”

“This makes me afraid the most.” Max took a deep breath to calm down. “But attend to the boy! As I drew out from the other guy’s words, they plan to do something with him. Keep your eye on him in twenty-five hours!”

“You think that I wasn’t doing that?”

“As we can see it from the events, not really,” the blond man threw at him, reproachfully.

Adams nodded without a word then got out of the car, swung the door shut and vanished. As the car stopped shaking, Max trained his eyes on the laptop’s screen again. There were a few more items on the list which he didn’t look at. As he rolled down, his breath caught.

_Project Duty: SUCCESS_

_Project Tolkien: SUCCESS_


	16. The Tolkien's Rings, Part One

Robert Adams was sitting in the main room of the Glasgowian Torchwood base, his gaze sticking to nine screens. They transmitted the images of the cameras which were set up in the McAllistair-house. The team installed them not much after that the family moved into the house, thirteen years ago. It was hard to find the family in which the boy named Andrew will be born because the notes of Adams’ parents were poor about the child. Apart from this, Torchwood kept an eye on three other flats earlier but they left it off as it was found out that there’s no Andrew in the family.

This network was only activated after they first perceived the Doctor’s box in the neighbourhood. In those times Adams wasn’t sitting this convulsively before the monitors. The cameras were strangely malfunctioning if the TARDIS appeared in the house so he knew at once from the alarm’s sound that it will be better if he teleports to the apartment and continues to watch with his own eyes.

The first serious problem arose when that red-jacketed pistol hero appeared in the house because the usual disturbance didn’t step up at his arrival. Adams was late so he only had time to shoot a couple of bullets at the kidnapper.

Fortunately, the Doctor saved the boy and this was when Adams decided that it was better for Andrew if he stays beside the alien for as long as possible and not in front of his eyes.

Of course, this assumption was proven that it wasn’t completely relevant. The adventure in South America showed that he shouldn’t have interfered because Andrew would have one less problem and possible worldly enemies wouldn’t pay attention to him. From which was some, unfortunately.

After he came back from Rome, Adams was completely in a flutter, mainly because of his own trips. This boy saved Astrid Gresham’s life and Adams felt that he owns the lad with not getting him killed. The agent accomplished this task pretty lousily.

So now he spent almost every time he had in front of the monitors, practically moving into the black leather chair. And although he had to endure Max’s worrying and uncomprehending glances, he felt that he chose the best option.

He saw the two siblings on the monitor showing the living room. Stephanie was sitting in front of the laptop and Andrew stooping above a book. The girl’s continuous movements let him assume that she’s very excited about something. Although Adams couldn’t see what Stephanie watches on the laptop’s screen but he was sure that it was what zinged her up.

“Hey, Andrew,” the girl spoke, dragging her gaze away from the laptop very reluctantly, “what would you say, if we would travel a bit someday?”

“What are you thinking about?” her brother asked, murmuring.

“We could hop over to Chiswick,” Stephanie said, smiling. “The break is almost here, then we’ll have time for it. I think I’ve found the Noble-house.” Her smile became wider.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“You know that it’s not far. It will be fun, trust me! It will be a real fun.”

“And what were you thinking? We knock on their door like ‘hello, we’re the Doctor’s friends’?”

“For example,” the girl turned up her nose. “Don’t say that you wouldn’t like to meet Donna or Wilfred! Or Sarah Jane! Or anyone else. You had the honour to Clara and River Song; I’d also like to get to know at least one of his companions.”

“You’ve met Adams.”

“That’s not the same.”

Adams’ protest echoed in the strange silence of the Torchwood base.

“Anyway,” Andrew continued, “we wouldn’t be able to say anything to Donna. You know, her mind would burn out then.”

“Okay, but still! Maybe we could arrange a meeting.”

“I think you lead yourself on this too much. I wouldn’t believe…”

In this moment, the cameras’ images deflated. Adams was taken aback, his hand automatically swinging towards the rifle which propped to the table. He didn’t need the alarm of the observation station to know that the TARDIS just materialised in the house.

He saw it better to go. He grabbed the rifle and vanished from Glasgow to appear again on Russell Avenue. He took shape in the neighbourhood of the McAllistair-house; this house was for sale for more than a year. It was perfect for the passers-by not to take notice of his strange arrivals. He jogged down the building’s stairs to cross over to Andrew. He could have teleported there but he didn’t dare to risk blind-flying. He didn’t want to materialise on anyone.

A security camera turned woozily on the end of the street but Adams didn’t care. He appeared at the door and opened it. He was greeted by the sight he expected. The blue police box was parked in the living room and the Doctor was chatting with the two kids. The alien turned at the door’s squeak with a curious glance then his gaze calmed on Adams who just pulled his scarf away from his face.

“Ah, agent Adams, welcome!” He grinned at the man. “I feared that someone else will that be. When they opened the door on us last time,” he winked at Stephanie, “an interesting thing came out of it.”

“Greetings, Doctor! Andrew! Stephanie!” The Torchwood agent nodded to the three of them. “You’re going on an adventure again?” He turned to the time traveller.

“I’m explaining the Doctor that I can’t go,” Andrew spoke. “I have to learn, I’ll have a History exam.”

“Did I mention that I have a time machine?” The Doctor’s grin didn’t seem to falter and he also lifted his eyebrow. “You know, history opens up in front of you…”

“You can’t think this seriously.” Andrew was also laughing. “Just because I’m with you until you prohibit a, I don’t know… Sontaran to kill Tsar Nicholas, I won’t be cleverer in History.”

“It wasn’t a Sontaran. If you would have been there, you’d know.” The Doctor’s mood dwindled. “But there’s some truth in it. Well, okay,” he clapped his hands, “then study! In this case, Stephanie, we’ll go on this adventure by ourselves!”

The girl shrieked in delight. She jumped two or three times then appeared in front of her brother.

“Well, you see, I’m going now! And it will be fantastic!”

“Of course. Have a nice journey, Steph! Take care!”

“And you have a nice time learning!” The girl almost jumped out of her skin; she was more excited than before.

“Doctor, take care of her!” Andrew turned to the man, shaking his head.

“Certainly, Andrew, I will.” The Doctor nodded primly then shepherded Stephanie into the phone box.

The box’s lamp started to flash then the specific scream sounded and the ship vanished. Adams stayed alone with the boy.

As he watched the Doctor go away, a weird feeling possessed him. He knew well that it wasn’t a bright idea sending the boy with the time traveller last time but now he felt uncomfortable as he watched the lad.

Andrew sat back into the armchair, picked up his textbook but before he started to study, looked at the man.

“Is something wrong, agent Adams?”

“No, I’m only brooding.” Adams forced a rakish grin onto his face.

They were staring at each other wordlessly; the silence started to get more and more awkward, Andrew was evidently squirming. He ran a hand through his hair and fixed the collar of his shirt nervously. Adams saw the flash of the disk which was attached to the boy after that the Doctor saved him from the kidnapper. The agent couldn’t find out what it would be yet.

Andrew stood up in the end and started towards the kitchen.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

Adams shook his head to decline.

“I think I go instead.”

He turned slowly and put the scarf back in front of his face. As he stepped, the doorbell rang. He lifted one of his eyebrows but stepped to the door and opened it slowly. A black-skinned man was standing at the threshold. He wore a brown suit and his hair was trimmed short. He was drumming on the door frame with one of his hands but straightened himself as he caught a glimpse of Adams. He was visibly taken aback by the man’s appearance. Then he cleared his throat and looked into Adams’ eyes.

“I’m looking for Andrew McAllistair.”

Adams’ bad feelings intensified. The man seemed too official to look for the boy in some ordinary case.

“He doesn’t live here.”

“But…”

“I said he doesn’t live here.”

“Look, I didn’t want to come up with this…”

The man reached into the inner pocket of his suit and took a leather holder from it which he showed up to Adams immediately, almost exultantly.

“I’m Rex Matheson from the CIA. I also have a search and an extradition warrant. In case you stand in my way, there will be weighty consequences.”

Adams was entertained by the guy’s official approach. He lifted his right hand to be at the same height as Matheson’s eyes. The guy rolled his eyes.

“Don’t play the kid! If it’s next that I have to say it to your hand…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence because Adams’ hand was suddenly clenched into a fist and hit the agent’s bridge. The man, with both of his hands, caught his nose which started to bleed straightaway.

“What was this good for?” Matheson growled, grimacing.

Adams rummaged up his own ID and waved it in front of the other man’s face.

“Tell your boss that Andrew McAllistair, wherever he is on this planet, is under protection! Torchwood’s protection.”

“Torchwood?” Matheson’s eyebrows ran onto the middle of his forehead. “Isn’t it only Cooper and Harkness?”

“No. Don’t worry, your nose will recover.” Adams stepped back behind the door. “I don’t want to see you anymore!”

With that lilt he banged the door in front of the painfully snarling CIA agent. Adams felt himself relieved; he hoped that this tiny incident puts an end to the bad feelings. The air left his lungs, accompanied by a quiet giggle.

“Imagine, Andrew…” he wanted to start but realised that the boy’s not in the room. “Andrew?”

The eerie suspicion crawled back into his thoughts. Almost jumping, he appeared at the kitchen door and swung it open. There was no one in the kitchen but water was still running from the tap. He stepped to it and turned it off. He was now sure that something bad happened. A door opened from the kitchen onto the terrace and the backyard. It was open.

He ran through the door, onto the yard. The leaves of the bushes standing at the fence were broke down and bent. Something went through it apparently. More than once. Two fence-splints were taken from their places as well. Adams ran to the white splints with wide eyes. In the distance, he could still see a grey pickup, speeding away and spitting smoke behind it.

Adams’ throat tightened. He messed it up again.

 

Andrew’s consciousness started to wake slowly. Very slowly. His senses didn‘t reply; he felt his body to be a dull weight. He didn’t know where he is. But he was sure that he was freezing. He opened his eyes but he was only greeted by darkness; light was coming from nowhere to see his surroundings. While he was staring at the shadows churning in front of his eyes, he tried to remember. Although his memories were as foggy as his senses, faint images started to flash in his mind.

When he went to the kitchen for water, someone grabbed him and stabbed something into his neck. Everything went black after this. He was sedated. His remaining memories weren’t this concrete: noises, voices, misty images. Barked orders, first the roaring of a car then something deeper, maybe a plane. There was once dark and once brightness. He couldn’t recall anything coherent; he wasn’t conscious for long at any of his waking. When he tried to grab a thought, it evaporated immediately to join the undefinable tornado of his mind.

But he had to interrupt the remembering. The strain was proven unsuccessful; he couldn’t call up nothing more, apart from these whiffs. A strange sound assailed his ears, a dull scratch. The room, where he was, started to brighten but he couldn’t make out too much from the world around him, either. But the more of his senses came back, the better he suspected where he can be.

He didn’t take delight in the discovery.

His back distended to some kind of cushioned surface which angled forty-five degrees with the ground. There was silence in the room; he only heard the whizzing of the strip lighting. As he tried to move, he had to realise that every one of his limbs are pinned down with four straps, just like his hips and chest, not leaving any latitude for him. He could only move his head freely but he felt that something was bound to it as well. The adrenaline, which was provoked by the discovery, washed the last crumbs of his confusion. He heard the crack of a door.

He was already fully conscious when he saw a figure getting closer to him. He could make out in the weak light that it wore a long white cape and a white medical mask. As it approached him, one of the rubber gloved hands stuck to his forearm and the other stabbed a needle into one of his vein. The shape drew some blood from him. The tiny tank of the needle was filled with blood within a moment and it slipped out from under his skin as easily as it intruded.

Their gazes met for a moment; the lab coated noded with a note that Andrew’s awake. Then it stood aside and the boy followed its movement with the turn of his head. The form was pushing the touchscreen of a monitor standing on a table from which more cables ran out of, all of them in Andrew’s direction. Then the figure turned back to the boy to strain some electrodes from his temples and chest. This was when Andrew realised that his upper body is naked.

“This will be a bit unpleasant,” the cloaked spoke, with mildly accented English. The figure was a woman, according to her voice.

She poked the monitor whereof Andrew started to feel sick. He felt as his nausea intensifies and he did everything to keep it back. But the woman stepped in front of him in this moment and gently pushed down the boy‘s chin with one of her thumb. Andrew couldn’t imagine what she wants with this. He felt as the unpleasant feeling crawls through his throat and tried to swallow vainly because it didn’t pass but augmented. Then it reached his mouth moments later.

A tiny, steel bug –resembling device fell out of his mouth, straight into the woman’s opened palm. Andrew swallowed a couple of times wryly, trying to fight off the additional nausea and the acrid feeling in his throat.

The woman, with her job finished, placed the steel bug in front of the monitor then pushed all of it out from the room keeping Andrew prisoner.

He stayed alone again.

Andrew, in contempt of the unequivocal panic, tried to stay as calm as possible and case the joint with a clean head.

He was kidnapped. Again. If the situation wouldn’t be this weighty, he would now laugh at how much he‘s fed up with this. But he didn’t laugh.

He didn’t know who caught him. The answer for the why was presumably the Nayad signal but he didn’t know why they’re examining his instead of finishing him off because the signals were definite calls for his dispatch. Then maybe they don’t understand the signals but they want to know what the marks are. He would be at some kind of government agency? He bolted Torchwood out of the suspects. Maybe UNIT? The Doctor would probably have some words but this doesn’t help him much in the present situation.

And the most important thing is that he didn’t know what they plan on doing with him. It was unambiguous that they’re examining him; he would have bet that the little steel bug was some kind of bizarre meter as well. Maybe they really wanted to know the origin of the signals. He could only hope that this search won’t include them opening him up. He shuddered at the thought.

He has to escape! Whether he’s at UNIT or another place, he was sure that he can’t come out of this nicely. Somehow he has to get free from the bed, get out of the room then call for help. But he had no idea for any of this. He tried to twitch more than once, maybe one of the bands let some force from its pinch but every one of his experiment was unsuccessful.

 

Although he couldn’t tell the time, he was sure that a couple of hours passed before the door of his prison opened again. This time he had two visitors, at least this was what he thought first. He heard talking when the door swung open; one of them was the woman’s who he saw earlier, the other was a man’s. The woman stayed outside of the room and pulled the door closed behind her partner.

The other didn’t wear medical equipment but an elegant suit. His sunburnt skin and dark hair referred to southern, maybe Spanish origin. As he stepped in, he smoothed back his oily-glistening hair. He walked to Andrew with measured steps and took care of his breathing, although he savoured of some masked excitement.

Andrew’s bed started to rise until it was angled squarely with the ground. He was at about eye-level with his visitor. His dark brown eyes ran over the boy curiously and settling on his face at last. The man’s forehead wrinkled quickly before he opened his mouth to speak.

“What’s your name?”

However, Andrew didn’t answer. The man continued on a soft voice.

“Okay, let’s start like this, maybe it will be easier. I’m Immanuel Moreno.”

“Talon,” the boy spat as an answer. This name worked once.

“I’m sure that you saw enough movies,” the man sighed slowly. “You know what comes next if you don’t answer. It’s a cliché, I know but it will be more comfortable for you if you reply trimly. So, what is your real name?”

“Andrew McAllistair.”

“You see you can do it.” Moreno started to smile. “Where are you from?”

“From where I was kidnapped,” Andrew snarled.

As if the man would have been taken aback. Maybe he didn’t expect an answer like this, maybe he was surprised by the severity. But he didn’t trouble himself.

“No. I mean where were you born?”

When Andrew didn’t reply time and again, the bed quivered under him. The boy exclaimed, flabbergasted, as the frame slowly turned until it didn’t settle like that he himself was hanging upside down. The blood sped into his head instantly, his ears started to buzz and felt his eardrum tense. His nausea came forward again. Meanwhile he was watching Moreno’s polished, black leather shoes.

“Bideford,” he shouted desperately.

The bed moved again and sat back into its basic position. Andrew, with a swimming head, tried to concentrate on his interrogator’s face. Meanwhile Moreno hummed thoughtfully.

“Interesting. Or rather, it isn’t. Have you ever been the witness of a nuclear event? Did your parents work with radioactive materials? Have you ever taken part in drug experiments?”

The answer of every question was a weak no.

“Hm… it was to be expected. But we have to be sure. Have you ever touched something which you could describe as supernatural?”

Andrew’s eyes widened.

“I touched the spot, as I can see.” The man grinned, pleased. “Can you write down what it was like? Some kind of graced object, by chance? Or some other golden relic?”

‘Golden relic?’ Andrew mused inside. Suddenly, dozens of golden relics came to his mind, the object made by the Trickster which he pawed in Ceiba. But how would these people know about this? The town is hidden from the world.

“I don’t know,” Andrew stammered, although he felt that his voice isn’t convincing.

Moreno’s eyes narrowed.

“Look, you seem to be an alright kid so I’ll be straight with you. You keep the key of humanity’s future in your hands, or rather, in your body. I know that you’ve been to Brazil. We measured an enormous amount of energy near you and we still do. You could save humanity, do you understand? This is why I’d like you to reply honestly.”

The gears clicked quickly in Andrew’s brain. They knew where he went, this wasn’t worth denying. He was sure that the turning of the bed was the lightest impulsive method which they could show up. But he was at least sure that the Nayad signals were which they could locate.

“I really don’t know what you’re thinking about. I’ve been to Brazil, yes, but that was only a school trip, we visited an excavation.”

“You mean you and your teleporting friend? Interesting method of an excursion. But it’s practical, without a doubt,” he started to grin. “We’ll extract the energy from you either way. But, if you would be a little more concurrent, we would get to know so much more about it. After all, you touched it.”

Andrew muttered sulkily.

“If you hope that they’ll come for you, don’t do! We shield your transmitter,” Moreno pointed at the translator disk, “they won’t find you here.”

But Andrew didn’t reply. He was sure that they will come across him somehow. Adams or the Doctor. Someone surely. The question is only that whether they’ll be in time.

In this moment the door opened and the woman leant in.

“Sir, your sister is on the phone.”

Moreno fixed the collar of his shirt and turned towards the woman.

“Thank you, Olivia, tell her that I’m coming shortly. I think I finished here. And, please, send a message to the team to set up the Tolkien!”

Olivia nodded and left the room.

“Olivia, my assistant.” Moreno smiled. “A peach of a thing. Well, Andrew McAllistair, I was glad to meet you! I’ll come back soon. Know that your sacrifice will serve the greater good.”

With this, the man left the room and the door locked behind him with a weighty clunk.

Andrew started again to pluck at the bands restraining his body; maybe they let him to pull his limbs out. He didn’t know what they want to do with him but the word ‘extract’ and Moreno’s tone, which he said it, didn’t hold out anything good. The Tolkien, whatever it is, held out even less.

He got tired after squirming unsuccessfully for minutes. He let himself go and let himself be kept by the straps. He felt how exhausted his body is from the stretching and strain. Sweat guttered from his forehead into his eyes but he didn’t pay any attention to it; he had a thousand other problems. In his mind, a world of thoughts forked, raced each other and he tried to digest every one of them.

His family came to his mind. What will happen to them if he doesn’t get home? His mother will break into shivers. Stephanie will be shattered at first but she’ll be able to move on, surely. Will they ever know what happened to him exactly? Or they’ll only notice that they can’t see him anymore?

These were bitter thoughts; Andrew almost felt that he sink deeper and deeper into exasperation. He knew that this feeling paralyses his body and cuffs his mind, but he didn’t have strength to fight. If he would have some kind of opportunity to escape…

As a satirical answer for his thoughts, the door opened. This is it about opportunities.

Moreno stepped inside again but he wore a lab coat this time as well. Behind him, Olivia and a wide, dark giant approached. As the unknown body stepped into the light, Andrew, flabbergasted, realised it to be a humanoid robot, like the ones can be seen in sci-fi movies. Ironic.

The people who held him prisoner were dwarfed by the robot’s two-metre figure. Its steel body was covered by dark, almost black sheets, from head to toe. Its build was asymmetric: its left upper arm was longer and wider; furthermore, tubes ran out of it and vanished in the robot’s back. Its other arm was a simple, ‘human’ hand. Its body was trapezoidal: its shoulder wider, its hips thin. Two, safe-seeming legs held it up. The dull blackness was broken by the plexi glass, placed at its stomach and the weak light sifting behind it. Its head was like a bare skull; its eyes were staring forward blankly. They didn’t even try to create it friendly.

“Nice, isn’t he?” Moreno pointed at the robot. “Welcome Tolkien! He will help us understand the energy living inside you.”

The robot, christened Tolkien, stopped in front of Andrew’s bed, ruthlessly leaning above the boy and shadowing him. Andrew tried jerking once again instinctively, while Moreno and his assistant neared him from two sides.

“Don’t struggle, it will be more painful like that,” Olivia spoke with unexpected softness.

“It will be painful,” Moreno said rigidly, “only less.” He put his hands onto the boy’s shoulders to keep him securely.

The robot’s more misshapen hand rose and thin, long needles crawled forward from the ends of its fingers. Andrew froze, flabbergasted; Moreno let his left shoulder go and fixed the robot’s hand to his right shoulder with an engineer-like precision. The needles sank into his flesh with agonising slowness, vanishing up to its fingertips.

A machine screamed inside the Tolkien, as if a pump would start, then it changed to an even whizz. Andrew felt as his shoulder throbs, as if it would want to explode at first, then it was tingling better and better at last. The tubes, running from the robot’s upper arm, started to loom and the light sifting from its abdomen strengthened as well.

A childlike excitement sat out onto Moreno’s face.

“Can you see this, Olivia? It works. The rings are charging right away.”

Andrew set his teeth in pain and closed his eyes as a protection against the stinging light which as if wouldn’t have bothered the two sort of scientists whose eyes almost outshone the brightness. He saw as Olivia swept a seemingly almost flaming curl of her red hair from her face and takes a device from the pocket of her lab coat. The outside world started to fade into obscurity, the light swallowed everything: the pain in his body, the Tolkien’s needles, Moreno’s clench on his shoulder. At last only the light remained.

 

The light dispersed.

Bafflement and shock sat out onto Olivia’s face. She was alone in the room. Where her boss and his creation stood before, now there was no one. The boy’s bed was yawning emptily, the straps hanging lifelessly. The Tolkien’s whizz also disappeared, only the strip lightings crackled quietly.

She has to inform someone. A lot of possibilities emerged during planning but this mustn’t have happened. A situation like this was qualified as unimaginable and what is more, unacceptable. She stared in front of her, bushed. She left the room almost insensibly, the place where this unacceptable case happened. She has to report this speedily, either way. They will know what to do.

She searched a phone and started to dial.

 

Falling.

Andrew felt only this. Falling into the large, horrible blackness. He sped towards the unknown bottom of the unknown deepness. A vortex swirled around him; once cooled, once heated; he felt as an invisible force presses his lungs, taking the air from him. The changing of light and dark, which hurt his eyes, started to cease; only the brightness remained and it started to ease.

Then the falling came to an end. The light dispersed.

He arrived with a dull thud. He didn’t fall as big as he felt it. A nice numbness and pain dissipated in his body. He was lying on his back, on the paving which was prickling his skin. It was utterly comfortable. Agreeably warm stones… just like in the arena of the Deathrace on New Earth. Death? That’s never good.

Andrew sat up, shouting, with a momentum from which he was rushed by dizziness immediately. He, with his left hand, grabbed at his right shoulder which was wet and sticky. Of course, he was bleeding! The five, needle-stung holes grew into long lines, as if they wanted to cut his heart right out.

He looked around to define where he is, meanwhile setting about getting on his feet with a swimming head and a bleeding shoulder. He was standing on the yard of a big house. He saw archways held by finely carved pillars around him which shadowed against the face-burning sunlight. Onto the pillars, ivy ran, right until the red-tiled roof. The yard was covered by colourful cobbles and a circular fountain took place in the middle on which a fish-shaped statue spit water in a thick ray. Distant rumbling mixed to the water’s gurgle, chirrup and conversations, yells. However, from the cacophony a voice stood out whose origin was very near.

Now it reached his mind that he hears Moreno. The guy was only a couple of steps behind him and shouted at the Tolkien. The man’s oily hair was dishevelled and stuck up. He was slapping the robot’s wide chest nervously, who forbore the imprecations and misuse mutely.

Andrew was yet to find out his next step when Moreno turned and started towards him. The man’s face was distorted by anger and his eyes shone from murderous passion. Andrew backed, stumbling, but the guy grabbed and swung him forcefully. The boy fell upon the fountain’s marble-rim and almost turned into the water. Moreno snatched at him and pulled him back into a sitting position.

“Wash out your wounds!”

“With this?” Andrew moaned, looking at the strangely coloured water.

“Is there any better? Do it!”

While Andrew was loath to set about to wash the dried blood from himself, Moreno took off the lab coat and tore a wide stripe from its bottom. As the boy was finished, the man stepped to him, found that the wounds aren’t ruinous then bandaged Andrew’s shoulder. The madness slowly vanished from his eyes and tiredness took its place. With a big sigh he sat down onto the rim as well.

“This isn’t what should have happened.”

“Why? What happened?” Andrew inquired but didn’t get an answer; the other was too lost in his own thoughts.

Andrew looked at the broken-seeming scientist then he also stared in front of him, trying to understand the events. He had a weird day so far but he wasn’t even surprised by that. He knew, deep in his soul, that the weirdness didn’t come to an end by all odds.

He moved his shoulder carefully, circling a couple of times but didn’t feel pain, only mild tension.

He took a glance at the stiffly-standing Tolkien who was still guarding unanimously and not trouble himself at all. Then he got bored of the aimless sitting and jumped onto his feet.

“Don’t go far!” Moreno called after him, enervated.

Andrew looked back at the man. He seemed so clumsy, so lost that the boy almost started to be sorry for him. Only almost! This guy kidnapped him, tied him to a bed, wanted to torture and experiment on him. Andrew won’t be sorry for him, surely?

He stepped to Moreno’s lab coat and picked it up from the ground. A wide stripe was missing from it but was still wearable and, in spite of the warm air, he was still shivering half-naked, so he slipped into it. It was a bit big on him but more than nothing. He searched over its pockets but all of them were empty. The extracting process’ only object was probably the Tolkien.

He looked around and noticed the yard’s exit, a smaller, arched gate, almost opposite the grange’s enormous, two-winged wooden door. He lashed away a couple of feral tendrils and peeked out on it. Though the gate, he saw a wide street which was circled by the short fences of granges similar to the one they inhabited. In the distance, he also saw some taller houses with one, two or even three floors. Most of them were built from with white bricks but in the main, they were fret by time, yellowed or turned brown. Forms, made of mosaic, paraded on some fences and almost everything was covered by similar creepers. Flowers hung from the windows in little baskets and the sashes were open, letting in the agreeable air.

The street was full of people; London’s streets would have been envious it because of this crowd. They wore stilted, richly laced clothes: the men padded-shouldered overcoats and the women enormous skirts. From time to time, some steel helmet-wearing, halberdier solders cut through the crowd, probably patrolling.

“So we time travelled?” Andrew turned back to the scientist.

“What?” the man snapped his head up.

“We time travelled. Back into the past.”

Moreno’s eyes widened. He stood up from next to the fountain, fixing his shirt and hair.

“Good observation.” He looked around. “I guess we could step back about six hundred years. But we’re still in Rome. If I’m right,” he looked up at the sky, “we’re standing on the same place from where we left.”

Andrew looked up at the crack: so they took him to Rome. He achieved the information. Meanwhile the man’s gaze went through another change: the tiredness evaporated and his eyes glinted advisedly. Andrew watched curiously as the other walks to the Tolkien then waves towards him.

“Come here!”

The boy shrugged and did as he was asked. Although he was waiting for an opportunity to escape, this wasn’t it now. He could have shunned from Moreno without any trouble; his shoulder didn’t hurt and there was no problem with his legs, either. But where could have he ran to? His phone wasn’t with him and he’s in the past. Moreover, Moreno wasn’t at all surprised, so he knows something. But the boy felt that he has to take charge somehow. If the scientist keeps dictating, then its only end will be that Andrew will get back onto the rack. Now he’s partly on home ground: he has already travelled in time. It would be pompousness to state that he’s proficient in it but he already has experience. He has to use this out somehow. He somehow has to make Moreno to leave a mark in history which the Doctor could notice so he could come for his aid.

The plan was ready. Until then he can do as Moreno wants who was already amending the Tolkien. He already pried open the darkened plexi glass covering the robot’s abdomen and he was now working on taking it down for good. When he succeeded, gave it to Andrew, along with a handful of smaller screws.

“Keep these!”

Andrew did so, while Moreno reached deeper into the Tolkien’s stomach. As he rummaged inside, he got bored of the silence and initiated a conversation.

“What do you think why he’s called Tolkien?”

“I think, after the author.”

“You’re right. John’s work did a lot for us to create this robot here.”

“How? He was an author. What does the two have in common?”

“Yes, he was an author. But not only that. As we didn’t start Project Tolkien yesterday. John was obsessed with seven special golden rings. The Rings of Eden, he called them. He devoted his whole life to find them but slowly went mad because of the futile chase; in time it was more comfortable to continue the search in a dreamland. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the honour for all of the rings in his life.”

Moreno tugged his hands out of the Tolkien’s stomach and pulled forth a glass roll which was two inches in diameter. He held it in front of Andrew.

“You see? I’m talking about these,” the scientist said with an unworldly face.

Andrew examined the roll. Inside it, seven rings were pulled onto a rod; all of them shone goldenly, this supplied the already known light. Red symbols glowed on the side of the rings. Andrew’s former suspicion seemed to prove true; the rings were really similar to the ones they’ve found in Ceiba. Moreover, he saw a handful of rings in Adams’ palm when they prepared their escape.

“These here,” Moreno lifted the rings at eye-level, “are able to bend time. Since we know about their existence, we try to understand their function. One ring’s force is evanescent in itself: it can only create only tiny time-slips; you just fall out of the world for a couple of seconds. The more there are together, the bigger power they have but their danger is also bigger. We lost a complete battleship because of them once,” he laughed bitterly. “You were the missing link. The storming energy inside you equals the energy of the rings.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Come on, this isn’t that complicated, you can comprehend it. I know that you’re not a genius but this isn’t a big thing.”

“Hey!” Andrew exclaimed huffily.

“Don’t play your mind, I’ve seen your scholastic record. You’re not that bad but I wouldn’t call you a master mind.”

Andrew revolted angrily. So the man started to insult him. Great.

Moreno didn’t trouble himself and continued his say.

“We’re now able to time travel as the annexed illustration shows.” He waved around. “Imagine the possibilities! We could save humanity from all of its mistakes, the wars and catastrophes. Think about it, you could step in, at anyone. What would you do to Nero, Napoleon, Hitler, if the chance is in your hands?”

“I would lock them in a cupboard,” Andrew started to smile. “This is so of a definite answer.”

“You don’t take this seriously,” the scientist scowled.

“Of course I do,” Andrew lifted his voice. “And this isn’t a game! Time doesn’t work like this. It isn’t a plaything which can be placed into anyone’s hand. And surely not into yours!”

“As if you’d know it!” Moreno waved. “You’re only a tool. On its intellectual level.”

Andrew wanted to retort something but both of them froze as they heard the creak of a door. The grange’s wooden door slowly opened to reveal the surprised, grey and bearded face of an aging man. This face was overcome with astonishment then fervid anger as it slowly turned red; the man started towards them, yelling, and left the door open.

He shook one of his fists in the air while he tried to pull his sword from his belt with his other hand. Moreno stood up, put down the roll and stepped in the direction of the house’s owner with raised hands then, started to talk, seeming composed. But the man wasn’t touched by this; when he got to Moreno, the sword was already in his hand and swished towards him immediately. Moreno fell back, losing his balance and flopping the roll away which rolled clattering on the cobbles. The old guy’s attention deflected straightaway: his gaze was first following the roll’s way then settled on Andrew. Moreno took advantage of it: he straddled the Italian’s legs with his own and floored him. The sword fell out of the old man’s hand and they started to wrestle.

Andrew chose not to wait for the result of the fight. Now a real chance offered itself for an escape: the device capable of time travel was not far from him which he could operate and Moreno was occupied. So he quickly picked up the roll containing the rings, put it under the lab coat and rushed out onto the street.

He was instantly lost in the enormous, rolling mass of people. The local noblemen and commoners were walking at a comfortable pace, talking; young couples sauntered, not looking before their feet. Only Andrew was hurrying. He tried to avoid bumping into anyone but sometimes had to force his way with his elbow and those actions were followed by surprised or angry shouts. He decided to depress the risk of doom by leaving the crowd and continuing his way in a narrowed street. He caught a glimpse of the appropriate alley between two houses so he started towards it. He looked back from carefulness but, for his peril, Moreno just stepped out of the grange’s gate. His shirt was torn and one his arms bloodied. He had the sword in his hand and his eyes were flashing, filled with madness.

Although the distance was relatively big between them, there was no one at the street‘s entrance so the scientist spotted him straightaway. He did shout something but Andrew didn’t hear that, jinking into the alleyway.

The tall houses shadowed the narrow street; the former, constant rumble hushed and the air cooled. Andrew heard his own wheezy breathing. In the street, a couple of raggedy, dirty-clothed men were sitting, talking and not caring about the outside world. Andrew tried to pass by the carefully not to make them pay attention to him. On the opposite end of the street, a white cloak-clad figure sulked at the wall, seemingly watching from behind the corner. Like the ragamuffins, Andrew didn’t want to bother him, either; he chose to run past him quickly. Being careful wouldn’t have made sense now: the street was short, there were no hiding places so if Moreno gets to him, he won’t be able to vanish.

He strengthened his legs, strained the rings better and broke into a run. He cut through the alley with long steps and almost got out onto the opposite street when he was down on his luck again. The cloaked froze for a moment then crouched down and kicked out the passing Andrew’s legs from momentum. The boy rose into the air, almost levitating, then cracked to the pavement with a huge force. The roll fell out of his hand and rolled out into the street.

Andrew tried to push himself up and reach the roll at the same time. In this, the cloaked figure’s brown boot put him back when the bloke stepped on his hand and picked the roll from the ground with his leather-gloved hands. Andrew looked up at the figure with a painful face.

The man’s full clothing was white with red stripes and trims. He wore a steel shoulder-brace whose strap was pricked with knives. His wide belt was clamped with an ornate, unlined A-letter-shaped fastener; a longer knife and a sword hung from it.

He pulled a beaked hood onto his face so a benevolent shadow hid his features, only his mouth and thick beard could be seen. From under the hood, thick, black hair hung out at shoulder-length.

Within a blink of an eye, he snatched the boy up the ground and pushed him to the wall. Andrew moaned because the man’s palm was pressing his wounded shoulder.

“Who are you and what do you want?” the man yelled at him.

“Let me go… please,” Andrew whined, gritting his teeth.

Andrew looked down at the roll which the man slowly lifted.

“You’d need this? You stole it, didn’t you?”

“No, I…”

“They all say this.” The man’s look was disdainful and the roll disappeared in a side bag. “Come!” he swung Andrew. “Let’s find its owner!”

Andrew groaned, relieved, when the man let his shoulder go. The hooded started with him, shepherding the boy in front of him backwards in the alley. As they started, Moreno also turned in on the other end of the lane, panting angrily.

“He’s here, sir, I caught him!” the cloaked shouted at him but Moreno didn’t care.

The scientist neared them, clamping, with a sword ready to be swung. The raggedy vagrants now broke their conversation and looked at the Spanish man, who was huffing like a rabid bull, and they saw it better to leave the alley. They jumped up from the ground awkwardly and ran out of the street.

“Step away from the boy!” Moreno addressed the hooded.

“Sorry, I don’t understand,” the other answered while reaching under his cape with one of his hands. “But I have the stolen object.”

Moreno probably saw threat in the movement because he lashed towards the cloaked immediately. The left hand reaching for the roll changed direction straightaway and pulled the knife out instead which was resting on the belt. He pushed Andrew away who fell backwards, onto the wall. The knife averted the sword’s blow then the man threw the weapon quickly into his right hand before the scientist could have attacked again. The two steel blades met again and again, sparking every time.

The hooded wasn’t willing to attack at first; he seemed to not understand the situation. Moreno’s hits were measured and orderly; he probably learnt to fence. On the other hand, his opponent fought more and more fervidly, stabbing wildly, averting and thrusting again. His movements were quicker and more precise but the scientist could hold his ground. He used out that the narrow lane didn’t give place for tactics: he kept the man fighting with the knife in the middle of the alley time and again. The combat’s result seemed to be a tie.

Andrew leant onto the wall, clutching his shoulder. He felt as the bandage gets soaked slowly; the hooded’s steel grip tore up the wounds. The boy couldn’t escape now, he needed the rings. His best chance would be if Moreno gets out of the fight as victorious and maybe the man doesn’t stab him on sight. After all, the Spanish needs the assumed energy inside him to work the rings. When he got to this on his train of thought, a strange, sharp sound hit his ears.

As if an eagle would have screeched overhead. Andrew looked up instinctively to find the origin of the sound.

He couldn’t see an eagle circle but noticed as a huge shadow falls down from the roof, straight towards Moreno. The scientist went sprawling onto the ground, squeaking, the sword flew out of his hand and the hooded kicked the weapon away immediately. And the shadow straightened up. It was another man, in clothes similar to the hooded’s. According to his stature, the stranger was shorter than him and thinner, too. His face was shadowed the same way, his weaponry was similar to the other’s but something lustred in the depth of his left coat sleeve. He stood up from Moreno so easily, as if he wouldn’t have hit the man unconscious in this moment. Then he jumped in front of his partner who pinned the knife back into his belt.

“What are you doing?” the newcomer spoke irritably. “Jacopo has escaped.”

“I’m also glad to see you, little brother. I’ve caught a thief, that’s what I’m doing.” He nodded at Andrew’s direction with his head then pointed at Moreno. “He robbed this man. But the idiot didn’t understand that I’m on his side.”

“I think you should consider this statement of yours.” The younger’s hand explored the scientist’s shirt then pulled out a golden necklace from which an isosceles, curve-ended cross was hanging. “Your new friend is a Templar.”

The other turned and stared at Andrew. His moustache trembled.

“Then the boy lost his mind.”

The little brother started towards Andrew, while he whispered to his sibling quietly.

“I think it is more than this.”

“You think he’s one of us?” The older brother was taken aback.

“I don’t know. But we’ll find it out. After we attended to his injuries.”

The younger hooded knelt in front of Andrew and examined the soaked bandage. He took the rag down and checked the injuries. He pressed his lips together.

“You don’t have to be afraid, we won’t hurt you. We’ll help you and fit up your wounds. What’s your name?”

Andrew didn’t know first, how to reply; the situation was suspicious to him, the sudden turnaround. He could have said his real name as well but he used once an alias which worked. That will do now.

“Talon.”

“Strange name, Talon. But maybe you’re strange, too. I’m Giovanni, he’s Mario. Come!”

The man straightened up and let Andrew go in front of him. Meanwhile, his brother picked Moreno up; he snatched the man onto his back like he would be a sack of wool.

They started in Giovanni’s wake who lead them through a labyrinthine network of smaller streets, always watching and looking around carefully, not to make someone notice them. In this renaissance world, the sibling, who was carrying Moreno on his shoulder, would be still prominent.

At last, their way lead to a simple, two-storey house, hidden somewhere in the more silent area of the city. In the building, a bakery was working and they settled down in its cellar.


	17. The Tolkien's Rings, Part Two

As they tied Moreno to one of the basement’s timbers, the two siblings left Andrew there and went up to the ground floor.

Seemingly, they wanted to talk in private. The creaking strip floor signalled their way, stopping above Andrew at last. In a store-room, if Andrew saw it correctly, when they arrived. They were in the back of the building. The cellar itself was fusty, the air heavy and flour-dust danced in the light-hasps, leaking in at some places. Moreno was still unconscious, so Andrew sat down onto a larger crate between a couple of barrels and tried to eavesdrop. In reality, it interested him, what his two new acquaintances could have been talking about.

“You don’t trust him, do you?” This was Giovanni’s voice.

“Not really,” his brother growled. “I don’t understand, why you do, though.”

“I can see it on him.”

“Oh, so your eagle vision told you,” Mario taunted. “It’s clear now. Then let’s go down to him, initiate him and take him home straightaway.”

“This tone isn’t needed. But the facts are beside him: he robbed a Templar. And it wasn’t anything; you can see it, too. It’s like the one that granddad mentions as a Piece of Eden.”

“And if all of it is a scam? They played this all for the boy to get into Montereggioni. The Templars are able to do lots of things. And you’re helping them.”

“You see the world too cloudily, Mario. What made you this cynic?”

“Life. We take too much risk.”

“There’s no too much risk if it is about the Brotherhood. Maybe Talon is the first step to reconstitute our order. We are few in number.”

“And you would put that to the venture as well. Here, drink instead!”

Andrew heard as something passes over the room above him then cracks to a barrel. A red liquid started to drop from between the boards.

“Hey!” Mario exclaimed. “It’s local. And the last hose.” His voiced shook sensibly.

“At least you’ll stay sober until the end of the mission.”

“As if the mission would still interest you.”

“It does. But this is as important as that.”

“Don’t mope! Accept that there are only us!”

“So these are your saviours,” Moreno spoke suddenly.

Andrew started. He looked at Moreno who was now wide awake, maybe for a long time. The man’s arms were twisted behind his back in a painful angle but he stood in front of the timber with a straight back. He didn’t show any sign of pain, although he was sucking air through his teeth sometimes. Disdain could be detected in both his look and voice. Andrew heard as the conversation continues above but didn’t understand what they’re saying; his senses were occupied by the scientist.

“They’re better than you.”

“You think so? Just because they are flourishing better with a sword than me? I tell you, if the other doesn’t jump on me vilely, they don’t defeat me. So would you please tell me from what you think they’re better than me?”

“Let’s start with that they didn’t kidnap me. And didn’t try to pump me out with a robot.”

“I did all of this with a good reason. Sometimes we are compelled to be bad guys, in the favour of the greater good. At least, I didn’t run into the world with the only device with which we could get home!” Moreno almost completely ran riot. “Did you have to get us into this big of a trouble?”

“Me?” Andrew was taken aback. “So I would have waited until you send me back onto the autopsy table? Or you immolate me to the ‘greater good’ on the spot to get home safely?”

“I’m not a barbarian; don’t mistake me with your new friends! Be glad that you stayed alive. We could have got home but you had to fool around.”

“You could have chosen another profession!”

Both of them turned up their noses huffily. The argument was shoreless, shouting had no point. Instead, Andrew said quickly thanks to Moreno’s choice of jewellery in his mind because otherwise maybe his situation would be much worse. So at least, for a while, he could benefit by that the siblings think that they have the same religion or something similar. He noticed that the chatting stopped above their heads. According to the floor’s tiny cracks, both of the brothers were standing. But he heard another noise as well. The flooring of the building trembled. Flour dust and sand fell into the basement; Andrew was wiping his eyes fretfully.

The shaking was rhythmic and kept intensifying. It stopped for a moment. Then an enormous bluster filler the upper room; judging from the cracking, something broke in the door.

“What the hell is this?” Mario shouted. “Is there a man in this?”

It could be heard in the suddenly settled silence as two swords slip from its sheath then a metallic snap sounded. In the next moment the swords met. Someone arrived at the bakery and they could be the opponent of the siblings. They could wear some kind of heavy armour; it was perceptible when they moved, on the hint of their weighty steps. The noise of the swords filled everything. Andrew was listening, keeping his breath back; his eyes goggled.

Then someone fell; this was confirmed by a huge crack.

“Watch out!” Giovanni’s yell sounded.

Suddenly a black sword’s edge hit through the boards, not far from Andrew’s head. The boy, startled, fell off the crate on which he sat this far. He looked up and stared at the stuck sword-edge on all fours, but Moreno was also watching it with a similarly shocked expression. Then the sword shook and was wrenched out of the floor; board pieces fell into the cellar and light poured from the made slit. The sword-fight’s noises intensified again into which a deep bong nixed sometimes, as if the siblings would have beaten an empty tin barrel.

“The Tolkien,” Moreno whispered. “He followed the rings.”

“What?” Andrew looked at him, shocked. “Where would that have a sword from?”

“He must defend himself somehow.” The scientist started to grin.

If he was right, then the Tolkien did just that. The black giant found shape in Andrew’s imagination, as he fights with the two hooded. The two siblings fought in a perfect rhythm, in strict time; their blades clanged the Tolkien in turns who probably tried to answer with heavy, slow strikes. There was silence for a moment, the swords backed away.

Then the floor crackled, forcefully and aggressively. It sounded as if the Tolkien could have tripped.

“Now! Its head!” Giovanni shouted, fighting for breath.

Steel cleft into the metal which yielded to the weapon, screaming. Everything was wrapped into muteness, only the panting of the two brothers could be heard.

Then, cracking, the boarding surrendered under the weight and crashed in. Andrew faulted away from the diving debris, falling between the flour barrels. As the dust settled, the boy saw that Moreno said the truth: it was really the Tolkien who attacked the siblings. The headless robot body lay on the stray catafalque standing from the board pieces. What he had wasn’t a sword but a half a metre long blade which reached out from his lower arm, above his left wrist. A hole gaped on his stomach because the plexi glass, lifted off earlier, wasn’t put back.

His head rolled, clinking, into the direction of where Andrew arrived; the metal skull’s dark eyes watched the boy. Andrew reached for it curiously and lifted it up. No miracle that his gaze was so lifeless: the head was empty, only an unfilled shell. The boy turned it in his hand uncomprehendingly then looked in the direction of the freshly made hole.

He was looking into Mario’s eyes.

He saw the man the first time without the hood. The Italian’s brown eyes were jumping to and fro, looking the robot up and down again and again but an exultant glint sat in them. He turned the sword in his hand with a malicious grin on his lips. Then he strengthened his legs and jumped through the gap yawning on the floor. He arrived lithely next to his defeated enemy. Giovanni didn’t follow him; judging from the sounds, he intended to use the stairs.

Mario’s grin became wider as he looked down at the robot. As he heard his sibling’s steps on the stairs, turned to his direction. He noticed the scared look of his little brother but it was too late.

The Tolkien’s left hand thrust bolt upright; the blade went to Mario’s throat. The hooded moved away in the last moment but the attack didn’t miss aim completely. With the basement-filling painful cry, he threw himself to the ground; bringing both his hands to his left cheek. The hot blood poured fervidly from under his palm.

“Mario!” Giovanni shouted, who was watching the scene from the stairs.

The headless robot straightened up in an unnatural way then stepped next to Mario who was whining from pain. He bent down to the man and tore off his belt. The Tolkien shelled the roll, containing the rings, from the side bag and threw the belt away, somewhere between the crates. The machine placed the roll into the slit in his stomach and the rings lit up.

Giovanni threw himself over the rail and when he saw that the robot gets ready to stab, threw a throwing knife. The weapon winged, whistling, lashing straight into its left elbow. The arm froze.

The robot turned into the direction of the new threat. When Giovanni was only two steps away from him, the Tolkien thrust forward with his own weapon but the ungraceful movement wasn’t dangerous; the dagger broke the servo. Giovanni leant away and aimed his own sword at the body but the weapon splintered off harmlessly. It could be seen that the man’s attack was controlled by desperation and not by thinking forward. His eyes were scanning the robot nervously, looking for weak points.

Andrew was at a loss, thinking about how he could help the man. As Giovanni inveigled the giant away, the boy ran to Mario. The beefy warrior was already unconscious but didn’t stop bleeding. Moreno was watching the scene with a malevolent grin.

Giovanni was getting tired unequivocally while the robot was bothered by not one of his earlier impairment. The man’s blows became slower, more imprecise. However, the worry about his brother multiplied his resolve. He pulled out another throwing knife, aiming at the robot’s left shoulder this time. The weapon glided into the joint, paralysing the Tolkien’s whole left arm. The robot recoiled for a moment but didn’t trouble himself: he lifted his disused, misshapen right arm. From the end of the fingers, the well-known needles sprang forward and lashed towards the hooded like a bear.

The man’s left hand rose, clenched it into a fist and a very familiar, hidden dagger jumped from under his forearm. Andrew, abashed, recognised the blade he himself wore on Pluvia, or at least something very similar to it. Giovanni fitted the tiny dagger in between the robot’s needles expertly, jamming the attack with this. The two time travellers watched the fight of the giant machine and the man, who was dwarfed by it, wonderingly.

In the fight, Giovanni was slowly worsted, tiredness overcoming him. He fell onto one of his knees under the robot’s pressure, the needles getting closer and closer to his face. Andrew grabbed the Tolkien’s head in exasperation and swung it at the robot. The throw missed the target, the head swishing past the machine harmlessly. But Giovanni’s eyes lit up.

He let go of the robot’s hand, ducking away from its arm. He threw himself after the head and, with an elegant somersault, picked up the piece in the middle of the movement. When the Tolkien turned after him and stabbed, its hand glided straight into its head and got stuck. The robot shook its hand, again and again, but the makeshift box glove didn’t come off it. Meanwhile Giovanni fixed up the right hand as well, like he did the left hand, also cutting the tubes running from the upper arm. Then walked in front of the robot, exhausted but triumphant, put his sword into both his hands and stabbed into the gaping stomach.

The Tolkien’s inner mechanism squalled; a motor whirled and was shouting louder and louder. The robot swung and fell backwards. The screaming stopped with a loud crack and the time-travelling rings spurted out of the machine’s stomach, accompanied by glass shards.

Giovanni didn’t pay attention to the canister falling from the air; he ran to his brother immediately.

“We have to get him a doctor!” Andrew whispered.

“I know one. He’s from the islands,” Giovanni explained while trying to lift his unconscious sibling.

Andrew also helped in lifting the large body which Giovanni put onto his shoulder, although he seemed to be weaker than Mario. Probably his strength was multiplied like this by his worry for his brother. Mario’s hands fell; Andrew was appalled to see that the blood clotted onto the man’s face, covering half his face almost completely.

“I could help him,” Moreno spoke calmly.

“What do you want, you cursed?” Giovanni looked at him, his eyes glistening from tears. “I recognise the work of the Templars in the armour. You don’t have a word here!” He turned to Andrew. “I don’t understand what this hell-hound wants but I don’t care about that now. Take my sword and stay here with him. If he tries to escape, kill him! Stab him! Let him suffer! Otherwise don’t do anything! I want this dog to find himself face to face with justice. I’ll come back.” With this, he limped up the stairs, being careful not to drop his brother. The cracking of the bakery’s floor showed where he went then every noise died away when he left the building.

Andrew looked at the sword spearing up from the Tolkien’s stomach with reluctance. He stepped to it and lifted the weapon. He held it in his hand, trembling.

“And what are you going to do now?” Moreno inquired scornfully. “Would you like to be a hero like these barbarians?”

The sword spun out of the boy’s hand and he lowered himself beside the robot’s body. He knew this feeling; the adrenaline emptied from his system, terror and tiredness fell onto him. He stared at the tied scientist, blinking.

“I don’t know,” he breathed.

“Then I’ll tell you. You come here and release me! You got us into enough trouble; it’s time to put right what can be undone.”

This time, Andrew didn’t start an argument again about who’s responsible for how the events worked out but he stood up from next to the Tolkien and looked at Moreno. He decided to listen to what the scientist wants. But he enjoyed the reversed situation a little bit; it wasn’t him who was the prisoner now. What a change!

“Are you deaf? I tell you, release me!”

“What will happen then?”

“Then we won’t be burnt on bonfire because of witchcraft, that will. I’ll take both of us home, I promise.” Moreno, seeing the doubtfulness in the boy’s eyes, continued. “I won’t hurt you, there’s no need for that anymore. We go back, you’ll get a Retcon then you can live your simple life.”

“Retcon?”

“Useful thing. Your Torchwood friend should have taken more care of his secrets. You could forget all this.”

The offer was enticing for Andrew. Maybe this would be the best: going home and not remembering anything.

He would have forgotten the happenings readily. Mario’s blood-covered face. But the alarm in his head didn’t fall silent, wasn’t able to believe that he can trust Moreno. But it slowly seemed that he won’t have another choice. The caped men vanished, no news from the Doctor and he himself didn’t know what to do.

“Alright.” He picked the sword up from the ground, hurried to Moreno and cut the rope holding the scientist prisoner.

Moreno moved his numb shoulders then, for about a minute, rubbed his wrists which the rope bruised. As he shook himself into place, looked around in the cellar.

“Find the rings! Until then I’ll see whether the Tolkien can still be started.”

Andrew set to search but no matter how many times he went over the basement, didn’t find more than five rings. He picked them up carefully, using the sleeves of his lab coat; he didn’t wish to touch them. Meanwhile he always blinked towards the stairs covertly; he feared that Giovanni comes back. He didn’t want to anger the man, who was adept to murder, not in the state of mind in which he left. The boy was sure that the man would spear him immediately with his forearm-blades. Maybe before the scientist.

When he stopped looking, Andrew knelt next to the scientist who was fixing the Tolkien.

“Just this many?” Moreno pealed but then he took the rings from the boy and inserted it into the broken glass cylinder. “Let’s hope this will be enough. It isn’t safe as we don’t have all of them but we can’t be comfortable now.”

However, after a couple of minutes’ tinkering, the scientist sighed, disappointed.

“The pump beam is completely smashed. You assisted to that nicely.” He looked at Andrew reproachfully. “The reactor is still working. But we won’t go too far with it.”

The boy growled sulkily. It isn’t possible that this was it. It can’t end with this.

Then something came to his mind and his eyes lit up. His brain started to reel. The rings probably work with time energy which stuck to him during time travel. Because the rings are also the devices of the Trickster, they probably work the same way as the crystal skull when it sucked the Doctor’s regeneration energy. Moreno was right this time, it can’t be comfortable. He has to do everything with which they can get home.

“So you say that he gets us back where we came from.”

“I’m saying that he doesn’t because he’s unserviceable.”

“Let me through!” Andrew almost pushed the scientist aside.

“What are you doing?”

Andrew ignored the question; he reached into the Tolkien’s stomach breezily, fisting the rings. The glass shards cut his hand but he didn’t care about the pain. He knew that he has to expect a much bigger one. But the waited feeling lagged behind. He felt the hot glow under his fist, light filtering out from between his fingers. It was as if his skin could have slowly melted onto the rings to become one with them but it wasn’t painful at all.

The brightness intensified and strengthened so the process was running. Moreno also placed his palm onto the robot’s chest hopefully, the metal body trembling under his hand; the reactor was whizzing. Andrew knew what happens next as he closed his eyes. He knew that the brightness will soon consume everything.

At last, they were swallowed by the insanely seething and changing cavalcade of the light and the darkness.

 

The crazy cacophony slowly subsided but they arrived into darkness.

Andrew felt wetness on his face, hair and clothes. It was raining. He blinked the raindrops out of his eyes and tried to orientate. They were on an open space, seemingly on some kind of roof. Dark grey clouds gathered on the sky, they were pouring their content onto the world spread out below them. Light adverts were burning all round them on the sides of other taller houses on a language which Andrew didn’t understand.

“What is this? Where are we?” He heard Moreno’s distorting, dumbfounded voice.

“I don’t know.” Andrew pulled his hand out of the Tolkien.

When he stood up, the boy found himself face to face with Moreno. The scientist’s shirt was soaked and his hair flattened. He was panting like an industrial fire-fan; his voice could almost be heard as a growl.

“You screwed it up again!” he yelled and threw himself at Andrew, hitting the boy’s face with his fist. “You scathed everything!”

Andrew tried to hit back but the weight of the scientist kneeling on him pushed the air from his lungs so he didn’t have the strength. His hand whooshed away in front of the man’s face with no fuss. He got another blow, his eyes starting to swim. He felt as his lip rives and his eye bungs up. Moreno wanted to wreck his every anger on him.

“Miserable kid, you scathed everything!” The scientist dragged the boy onto his feet and pulled him towards the edge of the roof.

Andrew turned giddy from the deepness. Thousands of light-lines ran down below like lots of lighting ants. Then a bluely and redly flashing spot marked out from between the lines and it started to approach them. Andrew felt as Moreno pushes him towards the cleft.

Gathering his every strength, he jumped backwards into Moreno’s stomach. The man slipped on the wet roof. They both fell.

In this moment, a light circle girded them; the light of a white illuminator burning their eyes. In the light, two figures stepped onto the roof, wearing blue-white armours and keeping a rifle in their hand. Both of them took aim at the time travellers.

“You have affronted the curfew,” one of them said on a mechanically distorted voice. “Stay on the ground; any intent of attack will be punished immediately. You are under arrest.”

Andrew forbore dazedly as the unknown soldiers twist his hands back then cuff him. It was as if the cuffs were also composed of light but they seemed solid and unbreakable. The men pulled him to his feet and pushed him into an angular vehicle which was floating next to the roof. They turned off the illuminator so the red-blue flashing dominated everything. Moreno also arrived then the two soldiers lifted the Tolkien’s body into the vehicle. The door wings slipped into their place, hiding the roof. The engines of the machine burred up and when the gradient swung, Andrew almost fell. Then they started their way towards their unknown destination.

 

The soldiers, as it was later found out, troopers took them to some kind of an urban police department. The walls of the building were clean, almost sterile; apart from the administrator droid, he could only see humans. Something special, something of a futuristic feeling could be felt on all of this which wasn’t surprising, seeing that they were in the future. But still all of it seemed like a traditional, earthly police station. Andrew took stock of his surroundings in interest while trying to ignore the pain attacking his body on more than one place.

After they were brought in, the time travellers went through some kind of scanning then were shepherded towards the prison section reserved for humans. They were questioned, one by one, about the happenings on the roof. Andrew thanked the heavens that Vik’s translating disk stayed on him so he fully understood the interrogating officer, thanks to the device’s quick adaptation. He didn’t say much, they couldn’t have believed him anyway because he didn’t have an ID card so he at last got into the system as John Doe, although they noted Talon as well. Andrew started to get used to the use of this name. Finally, they made him sign his statement and took him to the cells. He met Moreno for a moment. He tried to imagine what face the man will make during the interrogation.

He didn’t see the scientist anymore. The boy was escorted to a single slot which was bolted from the corridor by a huge metal door. The other cells were also like this one so they didn’t show favour toward him, either. He was greeted inside by a chair, a table, a bed and a wall-hidden lavatory.

Andrew toppled onto the bed at sight; he felt as if he was lying on a soft cloud, instead of hard bedding. A copious sleep was what he needed. Very much so.

 

A buzzing woke him up. He didn’t know how much he slept but it was already daylight. He jumped from the bed; his hair was dishevelled and his face tired. He realised that the whizzing came from the door’s direction; it was opening. One of the guards stood in front of it but he wasn’t the one who bore the boy company yesterday. The man put the door’s magnet card into the pocket of his vest then spoke.

“Someone left a deposit on you. You may leave.”

Someone left a deposit on him? Andrew couldn’t believe it. Who could have wanted to buy him out of here? Light was thrown on the answer soon and a happy, relieved smile moved onto Andrew’s face.

Behind the guard, a dingy grey armour appeared whose chest was dotted by an ugly shot mark. For the first time, the redly glowing eyes of the armour’s wearer didn’t evoke fear but delight. Vik Caim stood in front of him, grinning with folded arms.

“Congrats kid, I can see that you’ve become a real hard-boiled fellow.”

He was older than last time, with not too much, but it could be seen on him. But it was still the Zhak who stood in front of him. Andrew almost exclaimed in joy.

“Vik! What are you doing here?”

“Come!” The Zhak waved. “I’ll tell you on the way out.”

Andrew started, grinning; a nice feeling bestowed him when Vik’s gauntleted hand gripped his shoulder. He almost felt he would fall if the Zhak wouldn’t be next to him.

“Sergeant Utini, who recorded your statement, recognised your disk,” Vik started. “My disk. You know that it’s a unique product. He informed us and because the Earth was in our way anyway, we jumped down for you. Jenny waits at the ship. You were lucky.”

“I was.” Andrew grinned. “And where are you heading?”

“We’re looking for drive for our ship. The Doctor gave us the TARDIS control console he tinkered. It’s a slack work but, as I know his story, amazing.”

“Then you have luck now. What I got here with can be appropriate for it. Rings which are able to time travel, I think that would stand you in good stead,” Andrew suggested.

“You say so?” Vik scratched his chin, pensively.

When they got out into the administration room, Vik waved the guard to him, the guard which questioned Andrew. The man grinned at the boy impishly then, with a serious expression, asked the Zhak how he could help.

“Thanks for telling us this,” Vik said to him. “There would be something else. Could I also take what you found next to the boy?”

“That weird robot?” Utini lifted his eyebrows. “Why not. But then, wouldn’t you take the other illusive man with you as well?”

Vik looked down at Andrew but, seeing the lad shaking his head, he also waved a no.

“There isn’t that much place.”

“Alright, you know it.” The Sergeant nodded. “You still saved me from a lot of paperwork.” He started to grin. “I’ll tell someone, it will wait for you at the package gate. I was glad to see you!”

“Me, too.” Vik shook hands with the policeman who then went to take actions.

As Utini promised, they were waited near the exit by the Tolkien in a larger crate. The officer looking after it nodded at Vik then started in his trail, pushing the carriage on a gravitational slide.

Andrew’s breath caught when he glimpsed Jenny and Vik’s ship on one of the police landing platforms. It was an enormous, imposing spaceship, coated to a glossy blue, as if the paint could have dried on it just now, it was glinting like that. It was like a long double cross but its nose was palled and the holding elements fastened to the front cross made the ship resemble a huge ray which stood on tiny post legs. Two enormous engines were collared to the rear cross but more, tinier nozzles were lined up on the back of the machine. Between the crosses, closer to the rear one, a ramp deflated and next to it stood Jenny, waving excitedly. The girl’s hair was in a ponytail now as well and she wore a light brown windcheater. As they got to her and the officer left the crate there, she hugged the boy, smiling.

“It’s good to see you, Andrew!”

“You have no idea how good it is for me!” Andrew hugged her back.

“And what is this?” the girl asked, turning to Vik.

“According to Andrew, this is the solution to our problem. We’ll open it inside, let’s not take place anymore!”

“Okay!”

Jenny jogged up the ramp and prepared the ship while Andrew helped Vik to push the crate onto the deck. Andrew marvelled inside as well. The ship’s walls were corded, strengthening the feeling as if they would have walked in the stomach of a space-walking space-ray. Leaving the airlock, in the direction of the stern almost immediately the engine-room started. However, in the direction of the nose some kind of collective room greeted Andrew. It seemed bare at first until Vik didn’t show its trick: the chairs were recessed into the wall, they could be expelled from there and the table jumped up from the floor.

After leaving the crate on the table’s place, Vik escorted Andrew to the first cross. The two wings were originally closed off by two sliding doors but Jenny took out one of them and hung up a blue curtain instead as a divider. The Zhak showed the boy into the other one.

“This is my room but until you stay here, you can get it. I’ll move to Jenny. Now excuse me but I have to go help her in jumping. Her aim is grim.” He grinned at his own remark then left Andrew alone.

At first, the boy looked around the room, flabbergasted, as the door slid slowly back into place. There was only a big cupboard in which he found Vik’s rifle and some other stuff. Of course, he realised after a couple of minutes that he can conjure the beds like the furniture on the corridor. Two beds turned out from one of the sides; Andrew sent back the upper bed and sat down onto the lower one.

Meanwhile he almost missed the take-off and the space jump. He enjoyed the soft bed and the nice feeling of comfort and safety. His rest was disturbed by Jenny’s knock.

“May I come in?” She popped in her head, smiling.

“Of course.” Andrew nodded.

Jenny sat down next to the boy.

“How are you? What happened to you?” The girl examined the wounds on Andrew’s face carefully. “You were done pretty badly. Vik will treat you when we get into hyperspace. Until then you can tell me how you got here.”

Andrew started telling his story and Jenny listened to him with interest. At the end of it the Zhak appeared as well who attended to all of Andrew’s wounds. After the sterilisation and a couple of synthetic skin-patches, the three of them jointly heisted the Tolkien from the box. Jenny watched the build of the huge robot, wondering and examining it with a handheld scanner.

“Is that its head on its hand? Interesting; it’s only a shell, empty. I can’t see any sign of traditional optical sensors. If I’m correct, the whole body is covered by sonic sensors, transmitters and receivers. In effect, it orientated itself on the score of echoes, very clever. It had a cold fusion reactor. It’s exceptionally developed, compared to how antiquated it is.”

Vik instead took delight in Giovanni’s left-in knives like a kid in a new toy. He turned the weapons in his hands, marvelling and balancing one of them on the finger of his gauntlet.

“Their centre of balance is excellent.”

At last, the rings turned up from the stomach of the machine.

“This is Time Lord technology,” Jenny was surprised.

“Something like that,” Andrew corrected her. “It’s half Nayad. It’s mixed technology, the work of a guy named the Trickster. The only problem is that I don’t have all of it. And I’m not sure that it’s completely risk-free to use them scantly. This is why I got here. Although, there can be something in the TARDIS console which is able to improve the situation.”

“Wait a minute!” Jenny jumped up to vanish behind the blue curtain then come back with a little wooden box.

A Gallifreyan mark was carved onto the top of the box and its inside hid two other rings.

“Where did they…” Andrew started to ask then enlightened. “Of course! Agatha’s necklace. Giovanni surely found them. They lived in Montereggioni,” he explained, “and Agatha’s ex-boyfriend worked there on an excavation and… Never mind.” He waved at last.

Jenny took a confused look at him upon hearing the story but then put the seven rings next to each other. Andrew nodded cheerfully.

“Here they are. All of them.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Vik stood up as well, pinning the knives into his belt. “Let’s get to it!”

 

Andrew lived for almost two weeks now on Jenny’s ship. During this time, his wounds healed nicely, without a trail. Although he couldn’t really help in the works, he became a part of the crew’s life. The Zhak, similarly to theirs, updated his translation disk with a masking software so it adopted the tone of Andrew’s skin immediately.

He got to know that Vik is a remarkably creative mechanic; he united the Kithonian spaceship’s, the TARDIS’ and the Tolkien’s robot components with the Trickster’s rings. He learnt that Jenny isn’t a bad cook but worse than she thought she was. It wasn’t inedible what she made on the compact stove in her room but, on the whole, Andrew like those days better on which Vik cooked. Otherwise, the Zhak taught him fence with the knives in the works’ breaks and pummelling as well on one occasion but Jenny didn’t let him put a rifle into Andrew’s hands.

The ship was resting in one of the docks of the residential station orbiting the bluely smouldering sun of Nogum; he sometimes went with Jenny to do the shopping if they had to fetch this or that. For his biggest disappointment, the station was inhabited by humans so he didn’t meet alien creatures.

And when he wasn’t watching Vik and Jenny as they worked, then he was studying history on one of the handheld data-readers in his room. Strictly history. He knew that he mustn’t look into the future. But now he got two weeks as a gift until the exam, it could have been rubbish to miss the opportunity.

“I’m done!” Vik’s shout sounded one day.

Andrew put down the data-reader and hurried out of the room. Vik just stepped through the door dividing the engine-room and the resting room. From his overall some kind of purplish liquid was dropping whose spots he tried to remove from the floor with one of his shoes. It was still unusual to see the Zhak out of his armour.

“You were fast,” Andrew threw at him.

“I’m only that.” Vik was seemingly very proud of himself.

“I’m sure.” Jenny jumped from the cockpit. “Is it my turn now, then?”

“In fact, both of us are needed.” The man fixed his tool belt. “Or rather, all three of us. You’ll help me at synchronisation and Andrew goes into the cockpit.”

The boy started to the appointed place, pulling a wry face. Jenny already tried a couple of times to make him understand how the ship works but this simply wasn’t his world. He already knew the purpose and aim of some of the buttons; he hoped he won’t need more this time, either.

“Well, are you ready?” Jenny threw an encouraging look at him.

“Yes,” the boy breathed.

“There won’t be any problems! Allons-y!” With that, the girl and the Zhak went back into the engine-room.

At last, Andrew stepped into the booth. Through the wide window he saw the blazing star but its light was dampened by the automatic filters of the glass. He tore his gaze away from the spectacle immediately; he wanted to concentrate to the task. The split control panel was flecked by a lot of buttons like stars on the dark veil of space. To the right and the left of the two seats there were consoles as well, at a height which he couldn’t reach when he sat. After all, it wasn’t a human ship; it was planned for a Kithonian’s anatomy. Luckily, there was no need for them anymore: which he had to handle were opposite the co-pilot’s chair. He plopped down into the seat and sank into the comfortable pad. He enjoyed the comfort for a moment then he looked for the button of the ship’s inner radio system.

“…and that there,” Vik’s voice crackled up.

“I’m here,” Andrew spoke into the microphone.

“Just in time, kid. The last cable is also in its place. Jenny operates the TARDIS console and I try to keep the robot’s power supply alive. Watch the monitor! As the energy level would fall under seventy percent, turn on the ship’s systems! We only have to ignite then all of it will be automatic. Theoretically. Ready?”

“Ready,” Jenny and Andrew replied in unison.

“Then I’ll start it.”

Firstly, a chirping-sounding noise grew into buzzing then the speakers started to crackle. Andrew saw in front of his mind’s eye as Jenny, similarly to her father, scuttles about around the TARDIS control panel. Meanwhile his real eyes stuck to the screen all along. The energy level sky-rocketed at first; it ran over a hundred and fifty percent. It fluctuated here for some time then started to ebbed slowly. Andrew’s finger trembled nervously above the button controlling the ship’s energy system.

He watched as the energy reduced.

“Seventy-three… seventy-two… seventy-one…” he gawped the screen’s captions.

He pushed the button in the appropriate moment.

The console wall lightened up; the space ray shook itself, rumbled then came to life. The energy level started to rise again and the buzzing fell silent. To the level that he heard Vik’s content, joyful yells from the other side.

“Yes! Nice work! From you, too, kid!”

Andrew started to smile, calming. He didn’t blow up anything. When he left the cockpit he ran into the happily bouncing Jenny who first hugged him then fell upon Vik’s neck, giggling and ignoring the liquid staining her clothes.

“The galaxy awaits us! Every slice of space and time! Everything!” the girl laughed.

“I will be proud of this day until my death,” Vik murmured.

“You have the reason for it.” Andrew nodded. “Well, the ship is ready, then?” He turned to Jenny.

“Completely-completely.” The girl grinned.

“Then I must ask: what will be its name?”

“Its name?” Jenny was baffled. “Well, this is a ship. What other thing would we name it?”

“You know, it’s a habit to name ships,” Andrew explained cheerfully. “It was flying for a time without a name.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know that,” the boy shrugged. “This is some kind of tradition. The ship will be complete with this.”

“Indeed,” Vik approved as well.

“Then why didn’t you tell me this before?” Jenny looked at the Zhak. “Good, then what name should I give it? What’s the habit?”

“Well, something like that you’d like to commemorate. Or you’d like for the others to commemorate.”

“You know,” Vik took over, “in my childhood, we had a peregrine falcon. He was very old but I loved that bird very much. Maybe this could be it?”

“Why would you name a ship Very Old Peregrine Falcon? This doesn’t make sense,” Jenny shook her head.

It was as if Vik would have felt aggrieved.

“You don’t have to make a big problem from this,” Andrew said. “It was only an idea. It can be an acronym, too. Like the TARDIS.”

“Indeed,” Jenny started to smile. “Time And Relative Dimension In Space. I’ll think about it. We will,” She nodded towards Vik.

“But let’s start it now,” the man nodded back, “and test it! We’ll take you home, kid.”

Andrew’s heart lightened upon hearing the words. He really became attached to this couple but homesickness also tortured him. He wished to go home.

All three of them trooped in the cockpit, Jenny sitting into the driver’s seat and Vik into the co-pilot’s. Andrew stopped behind them, clinging to the chairs. Jenny gently lifted the space ray from the dock while Vik collated the company working the harbour about their leave. After they got permission, the ship swept through the shield hugging the space station like a bubble, straight towards the depth of space. When they rolled away from the blue star’s pull range as well, Jenny stopped the ship while the Zhak finished calculating the space-time vectors.

“Do we have to stop for this at all?” Jenny asked. “After all, we’ll step into the Time Vortex and not hyperspace. We can’t be harmed theoretically.”

“It’s good to be careful at first,” Vik said sternly. “We’ll experiment later. Well, Andrew, if everything’s correct, this will be that date.”

Andrew took a quick glance at the monitor then nodded. Jenny started the engines, the ship shook violently and it seemed for a moment that the test will be unsuccessful. But after that, the ship left its contour slowly behind and vanished into the dark of deep-space.

Andrew watched, marvelling, the seething chaos in front of them, that beautiful, thousand-coloured phenomenon which was the substantive verity of the Time Vortex. Hyperspace was also nice but this spectacle seemed downright indescribable. He could never see it from the TARDIS before and he doubted that too many people could have seen the Vortex this way. However, they just stepped in but his head started to ache. Images started to flash in front of his eyes, indefinable, muddy shapes which began to materialise in his head; he saw as Vik hides his red eyes into his palm while Jenny stared stiffly at the Vortex with an unworldly look. He himself couldn’t bear the thought-cavalcade entering the depth of his mind so he turned away and closed his eyes forcefully, hoping that it will pass at all. From this on, he could only rely on his other senses.

He felt as the ship was shaking continuously, swinging out crassly sometimes because of a few jolts but the shields endured the strain. However, the booth’s alarms shrieked, biting into his already sensitive nerves.

Around the space ray, the stomach-twisting image of the Vortex slowly vanished and the ship appeared from nothing. The anti-gravitational emergency brakes turned on, jerking hard, but Jenny stood on guard; she pulled up the vehicle before it could have bump into the ground. Vik clutched the dashboard nervously; probably the figures didn’t add up because they didn’t orbit the Earth but very close to its surface. The Zhak reflexively activated the ship’s masking mechanism.

Andrew looked out on the first window, flabbergasted.

“This is out street. I can see our house from here,” he exclaimed in delight.

“I don’t understand,” Vik said, confused. “I couldn’t have mistaken.”

“You didn’t,” Jenny giggled. “The TARDIS is the one who’s responsible for this. You know that a slice of her ‘soul’ is also in the remained console. She knows Andrew so she humoured him. Maybe we could contact her if we repair the hologram system.”

“Maybe. But now put down the ship… there!” Vik pointed at the road running in front of the houses.

Jenny steered the sizeable ship extremely gently near the road then descended. The wind of the engines ruffled the trees’ head, stirring tornados from dust and leaves. The girl didn’t dare to land; she was afraid that the asphalt would sink under the space vehicle’s weight. So she stayed there, levitating, until Vik escorted Andrew back to the descending ramp where the boy happily jumped down from. He turned back to wave goodbye to the Zhak floating in the middle of nothing who then was swallowed by the ship’s belly. Although he couldn’t see the departure of the invisible ship, the subside of the hurricane signalled it.

Andrew ran to the door of their house and stepped in happily. He didn’t take it for strange that it was open, after all, he or Stephanie couldn’t lock it. He was looking for the clock and the calendar with his eyes: he arrived back to the same date, only one or half a day after he was kidnapped. The house was untouched; he shouted around but it seemed that Stephanie wasn’t home yet and his mother was still working overtime.

As if she only waited him to get home, he heard the noise of the materialising TARDIS. The whining blue box’s silhouette slowly appeared. As her lamp died down, her door opened and Stephanie jumped out of it, in a similar speed with which he arrived. The girl’s gaze seemed confused for a moment then she fell on Andrew’s neck.

“Well, what was the adventure like?” The boy reciprocated the hug.

“I told you, fantastic,” the girl grinned, then ran up the stairs immediately.

Andrew looked after the girl then his gaze met the Doctor’s who leant to the TARDIS’ door with an interested face.

“You’re older than last time.” His eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t you tell me something?”

Andrew didn’t want to keep the happenings secret anyway so he told everything to the Doctor from the beginning: his kidnapping, Immanuel Moreno, the Tolkien robot and the Trickster’s rings, the warrior brothers and the two weeks spent on Jenny’s ship. The Doctor sometimes hummed, sometimes nodded then a content grin spread on his face.

“I knew that they’ll solve it.” It could be seen on him that he’s proud of his daughter and her companion. “But what happened to you is worrying. I’m not pleased with Torchwood’s work.”

“I know,” Agent Adams’ voice spoke suddenly from the middle of the living room.

The boy jumped in alarm. The agent was wearing his usual outfit; in his hand was Andrew’s mobile phone which he put down onto the living room’s table.

“You don’t have to emphasise how much I messed it up,” Adams continued. “I’m sorry! But I can assure you that something like this won’t happen in the future. Your attackers were mopped up, Andrew; they don’t mean any harm to you anymore.”

“Are you sure?” the Doctor asked back, suspicious.

“Absolutely.”

“Last time, you briefed me about my responsibility.” The Doctor’s lips were setting into a thin line. “Don’t make me do the same.”

“You don’t have to.” Only this remained after Adams, he himself wasn’t in the room.

“I hope so,” the Doctor murmured in front of him. “Well, Andrew, I’m glad that you’re fine and I’m sorry that I wasn’t there! I remember when Giovanni looked me up with his brother. His thoughts almost burnt a hole into my psychic paper. I was younger back then. I didn’t think about that he mentioned you then. And I thought about the robot that one of Leonardo’s inventions broke loose; it wasn’t as if da Vinci would have been in a creative age at all… But calm down, Mario survived but he never got back his sight.”

“I’m glad about this,” Andrew sighed.

He couldn’t have borne if the man died because of him. Because whether indirectly or not, it was still his fault that the two siblings had to go face to face with the robot.

“Don’t prey upon it!” The Doctor almost reacted to his thoughts. “Everyone makes mistakes. I do so sometimes. But we have to move on; I recommend it to you, too.”

Andrew nodded silently then said goodbye to the Doctor. After the TARDIS disappeared, he took his phone and sat down onto the sofa. He was tired, not physically but mentally. The memories of the events rushed him again. But then he took a deep breath and confined the thoughts to the deepest part of his mind. The Doctor was right; it’s also good for him if he moves on.

He jumped from the sofa and went after Stephanie to the first floor. This time he wanted to listen to his sister’s story.

 

_Screaming, terror, the professor is dead,_

_Leaving only an orphan girl after himself._

_His work, his secrets went to the grave with him,_

_But the girl couldn’t forget that evening._

_His success was near, it was taken from him,_

_Now the girl went forward stubbornly._

_Because his killer still saunters along,_

_About whom she only knows his name: Doctor._


	18. Doctor Mini - The Renegade Book

The TARDIS was buzzing softly as she left the McAllistair house, London, Earth, everything that Stephanie ever knew. The girl, just like last time, looked around and around in the time machine’s main room with eyes glinting with joy. Maybe she was more excited than on the last occasion because now she really went on a real adventure with the Doctor. In her head, she went through what kind of things the man could show her. Which planet they’re going to? Will it be a planet at all? Maybe she can meet some kind of alien. Excitement almost busted her. So many possibilities waited her.

She knew that the Doctor looks at her covertly sometimes and just smiles to himself. The Time Lord simply liked to see the enthralled guests because these times he could be the proud host.

And this host bustled continuously about at the six piloted control panel then left Stephanie alone for a short time in the main room. The girl could barely hold herself back, she would have run to the control panel instead and grope every switch and button. Then she took a deep breath, scolded herself in her mind because the fan overwhelmed her this much, then she fixed the band in her hair. She let herself calm down. This is how she waited until the Doctor came back.

The man quickly arrived, keeping something in his hand. The diary which was written by Colonel Fawcett, which Andrew read into when their last journey miscarried.

“What is it needed for? Will we look for the Colonel?” Excitement broke up from Stephanie.

“No.” The Time Lord shook his head. “We’ll take it back.”

“To the Library?” The girl’s eyes widened.

“Yes. Do you know how huge of a penalty I’d get if I wouldn’t do it? I’m not the king of the ones who give things back on time. Although, it isn’t always my fault.” He slammed the control panel.

As a reply, the time machine shook gruffly.

“Alright, alright!” the man shushed his ship, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Steph’s mind was already elsewhere. Although the adventure seemed simple, this didn’t discourage her at all. She loved reading, she loved books. Where would she find more than in the Library?

A dull bang signalled that the ship landed. Stephanie waited impatiently for the Doctor to open the door of the blue box and let her out. She stepped out, on the top of her excitement.

The air was caught in her lungs.

They were in a huge hall, in some kind of reception or salon. Under her feet, bright surfaced, thousand-coloured tiles were lying in concentric treads. She couldn’t see the ceiling of the building. Humans bustled everywhere and, beyond the counter, she caught a glimpse of the tall, eternity-reaching bookshelves whose similar covered the surface of the whole planet. She heard that somewhere a gradient tinkles away.

“Welcome to one of the world’s largest knowledge base!” The Doctor waved around.

Stephanie couldn’t stifle her cheerful scream on which the Doctor just giggled. Then the man put Fawcett’s diary under his arm, locked the TARDIS which strangely didn’t make anyone notice her in the middle of the hall and he guided his companion into the sign-up queue.

“A bit long,” the Doctor extenuated as they were stamping at the end of the enormous line, “but we’ll get in, don’t worry!”

“I’m British. I know how to queue.” The girl started to smile.

Although they were moving horrendously slowly, almost in span-long steps, Steph wasn’t bothered by it. She simply couldn’t have enough of the planet-sized Library’s sight. This world simply sucked her in, the knowledge that she’s in the future, on an alien planet. Her favourite series really came true. And she almost didn’t notice, they got to the sign-in counter.

After the flashing-head implanted person welcome the Doctor as a recurring guest and enrolled Stephanie into the system, the girl got a tiny key card into her hand. She can access the books with this, take them off the shelves and rent them.

Steph sank the card into her pocket then stepped through the Library’s check gate. Her excitement, if it was even possible, rose further as she arrived into the shadow of the building-sized shelves.

“Listen, Steph,” the Doctor put his hand onto the girl’s shoulder, “I’ll take the diary to its place then I’ll have to find someone. An acquaintance of mine. Until then, look around leisurely! Just avoid the earthly history and humanity’s history, you know, there are rules.”

“I know.” Stephanie was nodding fervently.

“And if you can’t find something, ask for help from the staff.”

Stephanie looked at one of the bizarre, human-faced carved pillars which gave data to those who turned to it.

“I’ll manage.” The girl shrugged but the Doctor wasn’t anywhere.

So Stephanie could at last fulfil the hasty motivation and jinked herself into the forest of book shelves. If it depended on her, she could have spent whole days here. She didn’t have a concrete aim so she just looked around while measuring the future humans, in her mind trying to figure out their lives. At last, after a long roaming, she got into the polite learning section. She slowed down and started to watch the ornament-banded books. The row was empty; no one else was looking for something to read apart from her.

“How good it would be to take something home,” she whispered languorously.

She stroked over the thick leather spines with her fingers while reading the book titles quietly.

“Under the Umbrella by C. Redfield, Conrad Verner: Life of a Spectre, Anthology of Dexter Landlord, Vidlo Sodeb: Legends of Zhaknakal, Anthology of Alan Wake… As I see it, dross still blooms in the future,” she noted then her finger stopped at the spine of a black book. “The History of Torchwood by Emily Stanforth.”

This book varied from its environment and not only because of its dark cover. It was put onto the shelf haphazardly, wedged between two books, as if someone would have tried to squeeze it there in their hurry. On the score of the title, it was a historical book instead of a literature one. Chased by curiosity, she took the key card from her pocked with trembling hands, then slipped it into the delve which could be found on the shelf. A green flash and peep signalled that the system validated the ablation of books from the shelf. She reached for the picked volume when something suddenly touched her shoulder. A carefully manicured hand.

“I wouldn’t touch it in your place,” the hand’s owner spoke.

Stephanie jumped in fright, maybe shrieked, then turned around. A woman stood behind her in a drab coat and linen trousers and her face was framed by curly, blonde hair. Her lips curled into a nice smile.

“What?” Stephanie spoke with a halt.

“I said I wouldn’t take the book off the shelf. But I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Who are you?”

“Astrid Gresham,” the woman straightened herself up. “Officer of the second, Glasgow-sated Torchwood base; I joined in 1943 and was superannuated in 1962. My husband is Commander Robert Adams and my son is Agent Robert Adams Junior.”

Stephanie blinked in front of her, uncomprehendingly. Andrew already talked to her about this woman; he met her at Hagenau, in the Second World War. What would she be doing here?

“I don’t understand.”

The woman suddenly giggled on a tinkling voice. Then she changed tone.

“I’m the book’s entertainment module. My object is to fulfil the reader’s experience with the use of my audio-visual devices so they don’t have to take the book into their hands but they will still know everything.”

“So you’re some kind of hologram?”

“It can be said, yes.”

“But then how could you touch me?”

“I was created by using solid-light technology. But this was enough about me; you probably want to hear about the book.”

Astrid Gresham’s contours started to ripple; she grew a couple of centimetres, her linen trousers and coat melted into an elegant evening gown, her blonde hair straightened, turned brown and grew down to the middle of her back.

“The History of Torchwood, written by Emily Stanforth, forty-third edition,” the hologram spoke on her tinier deeper voice. “The book summarises the destiny of the Institute, from its foundation in 1879 to the complete collapse of the last, second base in 2142. She got most data from the documents made public by the Church; however, some of the information is the result of her own research or personal speculation. The writs in the book do not reflect the publisher’s opinion.” The author’s figure shook to change into a crinoline-wearing, aging woman. “The Torchwood Institute was founded by Queen Victoria, when an alien named the Doctor and a woman named Rose Tyler,” another shape shifting, “almost caused her death, along with a threat, coming from outside Earth.”

“Do you have to?” Steph interrupted.

“What?” Rose stuck. “Do you have a problem with the service?”

“Do you have to always change shape? It’s very distracting. Don’t you have an own, permanent form?”

“No.” As if Rose could have seemed sad. “But I can wear anyone’s form who’s in my database. Who would you like? The full staffs of all five Torchwood bases are at your service. According to my knowledge, Jack Harkness is one of the most popular ones.”

“Who would you like to be?”

Confusion ran over Rose’s face.

“What kind of question is this? Not mine but your demands are that matter. But, if you’re asking, Astrid Gresham is one of my favourites, as you could see when I greeted you. She loved to paint in her free time. This was a rarity in the confines of Torchwood.”

“You love to paint? Is that possible?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Rose seemed peevish. “Apart from that I’m a programmed artificial intelligence, I can still have a sense of beauty. You, for example, are pretty.”

Stephanie blushed then laughed. The Rose-form hologram giggled with her.

“Well, if you insist anyway,” Steph said, “then tell me about Astrid!”

The hologram changed again into Astrid with apparent happiness. Stephanie listened, interested, as the artificial intelligence talked about the Irish woman more animatedly, leaving her formal style. Along the way, the girl saw the figure of the agent’s husband once, but, as Stephanie wished, the hologram mostly stayed in Astrid’s form. However, when she got onto her life after Torchwood, Stephanie’s breath caught after a newer shape shifting.

The young agent Adams stood in front of her, with a straight back and short-cut hair. His uniform was a little tight on him but there was no trace of the raggedy, brown scarf which he always wore. His face wasn’t disfigured by his wound from his chin to his forehead, either. His gaze was determined; he didn’t resemble to that tired, grim soldier who Stephanie knew at all. She could have said him pretty. What could happen to him?

“Stop!” the girl exclaimed. “Now tell me about him!”

“As you wish.” Adams’ voice was soft, not that etched than the one she got used to. “Robert Adams, after his parents, went into service to the second base when he was twenty-one but left the stand in 1994. He went out to service again in 2012 when the base’s assignments multiplied on a level that the staff back then couldn’t attend to them. However, in 2013, after multiple delusions, his final superannuation also surfaced.”

“What delusions?” Stephanie was surprised. Maybe this was what freighted the agent all the time?

“The idea of his superannuation was advanced by his colleague, Maximillian Blue when Adams, on the umpteenth occasion, lost sight of the person who he had to take care of, Andrew McAllistair, so he could be kidnapped by the agents of the fake enterprise, the Abstergo Industries.”

“What?” Steph felt as an icy palm squeezes her heart; she had a bad feeling. “When did this happen?”

“On the 19th of July, 2013,” the Adams-hologram replied.

Stephanie went white. This is today. Or rather, that, from which she came away with the Doctor. Andrew was in danger, again. She has to inform the Time Lord. They have to go home and stop Andrew being kidnapped. Maybe then Adams won’t get into trouble, either. She wanted to run away but stepped in front of the module.

“Wait a minute!” He looked the girl up and down. “How couldn’t I recognise you? You’re Andrew McAllistair’s sister, Stephanie.”

As he said it, went through another change. Steph stood opposite herself, although her reflection wore different clothes and kept her hair in a different way. She could have been a tiny bit younger; probably the picture was taken when they were enrolled into Torchwood’s database. But it was her and this scared the girl a little. It was interesting and bizarre at the same time, to stand face to face with herself.

“Come with me!” Steph gripped the hologram’s hand which was presently her own. “We have to tell this to the Doctor.”

“I can’t.” The module tore her wrist from Steph’s palm. “The book is my source.”

“Then bring that, too!”

The hologram-Stephanie ran to the shelf, snatched off The History of Torchwood from there then both of them broke into a run to find the Doctor in the Library’s huge rooms. After Stephanie described to her double how the person they’re searching for looks like, the hologram, using her wireless system, contacted the entertainment modules of other books to ask for their help to search. So, with surprising speed, they came across the Doctor who just came from behind a stout, two-winged wooden door, fixing his jacket.

“Stephanie, where are you scooting?” The Time Lord was surprised. “Where are you two running?” he corrected himself. “Who’s your shadow?”

Stephanie just stuttered something while panting for breath. She wanted to answer with a name automatically but the hologram didn’t have any. Luckily, her ‘shadow’ helped her out.

“I’m the entertainment module of Emily Stanforth’s The History of Torchwood.”

“Stephanie, what have I told you in connection to history?” The man lifted his eyebrow.

“I couldn’t do anything about it,” Stephanie defended herself. “She was among the Literature books.”

“What were you doing there?” the Doctor turned to the hologram. “Did someone put you back to the wrong place?”

“Not really.” The hologram looked down. “I didn’t feel good among the historical books. Those modules are snobs. The Literature ones are much nicer. But no one goes there.”

“You’ve walked over?” the Time Lord marvelled. “You’re a very interesting module, you are.”

“Thank you.” Fake-Stephanie started to smile.

“But what was this big hurry?”

“Andrew was kidnapped,” the real Stephanie started then corrected herself. “Will be. You see, don’t you? Tell him!” she turned to her counterpart.

The module changed back to Adams and said the same that he did to Stephanie. The Doctor listened suspiciously then held both their hands and started back towards the TARDIS with them. However, they came to a halt at the reception counter.

“We have to say goodbye here,” the man said.

“Couldn’t I come with you?” Adams asked them. “It’s so boring for me here.”

Stephanie watched the supplicating hologram regretfully.

“I’m sorry, Module, but we can’t take you with us. Your place is here.” With that, the Doctor made his way to the time machine, only noticing at the gate that his present companion isn’t by his side. “Steph, aren’t you coming?”

“A minute, I’ll just say goodbye.” Stephanie waved. “Why don’t you go away by yourself?” she whispered to the hologram. “Because you can walk out of here whenever you want.”

The hologram’s eyes glinted. As if this thought didn’t occur to him and he got enlightened just now.

“Take my card!” Stephanie slipped the card into his hands. “Take my form and you can go away with the book without any problems.”

The hologram changed once more but this time she was the complete copy of Stephanie. Same clothes, same stance, same hairband.

“And you,” the module opened the book and flipped something out of the inside of the cover, “take this!” She held two tiny lenses and an earplug in her hand. “They’re wireless. My parts. As I got out, I’ll look for an amplifier station and contact you. Thank you, Stephanie McAllistair!”

“No worries, Tori.” The girl smiled at her.

“What?”

“Tori. Torchwood petted.”

“I like it. I’ll use it.” The newly named Tori smiled back. “I was glad to get to know you!”

“Me, too!” Steph waved as her double mingled in the crowd heading outside.

As Tori vanished completely, Stephanie started to yell after the Doctor. When the man got there with a mix of worry and nervousness on his face, the girl spread her hands helplessly.

“I think I lost my card!”

“Oh, Stephanie!” The Doctor sighed. “This is how I will take you to the Library once again!”

Following the quick wig, the Doctor explained them out at the reception then they hurried into the TARDIS. The time machine stepped into the Time Vortex, screaming and huffing. And Stephanie, stripping off the excitement over Tori’s escape, gave herself completely to the worry. She slowly started to feel that it would be better for her brother if she would tie herself to him, at least they would disappear together. Of course, she wouldn’t have told this thought to the boy, no matter what. But now she wished Andrew’s safety with all of her strength.

The time machine landed; on the monitor screen, the McAllistair-house’s living room appeared. Stephanie looked there fearfully; she was searching for the clock with her eyes. They were half a day after they went away. Andrew could already be kidnapped during this period of time. She ran to the door nervously, and then as it opened, she jumped out of it.

For her biggest shock, Andrew stood in front of her. His hair was a little ruffled, as if he would have arrived from a windstorm but otherwise he seemed completely healthy. She hugged the boy happily and with relief.

“Well, what was the adventure like?” Andrew asked, while hugging back with a similar force.

“I told you, fantastic.” The girl grinned, turning red from excitement.

Then, for his brother not to see her face, slipped out from the hug and ran up the stairs. She has to hide the devices she got from Tori. First, she went into her own room, but there, if anyone would notice the little gadgets, they would start to have misgiving immediately. So she ran into Andrew’s room; he already has so many tiny stuff, maybe three new ones wouldn’t rise to view to him.

She looked around inside then started to look for the perfect hiding place. The best solution came to her mind. She opened Andrew’s wardrobe.

Clothes were lined up on hangers inside. There were a few thing hidden here which Andrew brought home from one of his adventures: a couple of Vik Caim’s clothes which he got on the Deathrace, the T-shirt he got from the Doctor and the military coat that the boy washed over a weekend to make the blood disappear from it. Stephanie found what she wanted in the corner of the cupboard. A tiny drone was resting in a bag in which Captain John Hart sent his phone back to Andrew. The same gap will be perfect for the lenses and the earplug. She searched for the hidden partition, sank the devices into it then set everything back, not to appear like that she was in her brother’s room.

She hurried into her own room and spread out on the sun-yellow blanket of her bed. She felt that she needed to rest. Her thoughts adventured to Tori and she wished good luck to the girl’s new life. Then she closed her eyes and enjoyed the blanket’s softness. She had some things to rest out.

Who said that libraries are boring places?


	19. Lynn, Part One

“Good night!”

Sister Selene’s voice chased away the room’s tense silence, along with the squeak of an old bell. Lynn Grayshel froze for a moment. She stopped settling, blew the candle away on her bedside cabinet then jumped onto her bed and pulled the thick blanket on herself. She turned towards the window, showing her back to the door. Her straw-blonde hair fell into her face; she closed her eyes tightly and tried to breathe slowly as if she would be sleeping.

She twitched as the door opened, letting in the corridor’s lights and Sister Selene’s suspicious glances. The nun’s gaze walked over the room to make sure there’s no one inside but the girl, twisted in the blanket. The woman huffed contently then closed the door. Lynn heard as the key turns over in the lock.

The girl waited a little more, not to be betrayed by her sudden movements. The Sister needs seven more minutes until she finishes checking over the floor’s every habitants; she has to stay still until then. The girl carefully swept her hair rom her face and turned back to the door’s direction. She waited with a beating heart for the light, leaking in from under the door, to vanish at last. Her breathing quickened again.

At last, everything was covered by total darkness. Lynn’s eyes snapped open like a bent spring. She came out of bed, the wooden floor crackling beneath her. She came to a halt and listened but no one reacted to the noise. Anyway, her mind surely blew it up; she believed it to be louder than it really was.

She knelt and reached under the bed to trot out the drape sack which she hid there. She unloosened its mouth and dug in it. There were mostly clothes in it, a couple of books and a few other, smaller trinkets. What she was looking for was a palm-sized metal box. There were two keys lying in it and a card. She took one of the keys out and tightened her hold on it. Excitement ran through her body and animated her again.

She put the box back into the sack, knotted it and put it onto her back. She looked around the shadow-covered room. Apart from the bed, there were only two shelved cupboards in the locality but nothing lived in them except dust. She didn’t live here for enough time to bank up the place. It wasn’t as if she had an ambition for doing so. What was important to her was hidden by her sack.

She walked to the door carefully then fitted the key into the lock. A relieved sigh left her lips at the handle’s click. She succeeded in stealing the secondary key from the caretaker of the orphanage two days ago. She assumed that as long as they have the original key, they won’t look for the secondary one. Security was atrocious in the orphanage compared with that it belonged to the Church. It rather seemed to be a twentieth range kid depot than an ‘in-living educational establishment’.

She opened the door a crack, just a little for her to be able to come out, then pulled and locked it back. She hid the key into her dark trousers, pulled her dark top tighter on herself, took a deep breath and started. Freedom and, hopefully, truth waited her outside.

 

She stopped, panting, in the base of the concrete fence which beset the orphanage. Her heart beat fast, blood drummed in her ears and she was breathing deeply. Only this was in her path, this fence. And the gardener who sometimes walked around at night and he was approaching now as well, whistling a temple song of some kind. In his left hand, an empty bucket was clanking.

Lynn huddled herself up, trying to become one with the shadows. The lights of the gas lamps were glowing from the other side; if she stays in the base of the fence, maybe he won’t notice her. She fought down the urge to jump and run, although the gardener was getting closer and closer to her.

In the man’s mouth a cigarette was burning, its smouldering end glowing whenever he sucked on it. The wind floated the smoke towards Lynn; coughing irritated her throat. She tried not to breathe but the uncomfortable feeling was already there, no matter how she wanted to grapple it. She felt she would explode if she can’t cough.

A newer gust of wind took the cinder from the cigarette’s end and scattered it in the air like a squad of fireflies. She read about these bugs in a book once. They supposedly made an impressive sight. She tore her gaze away from the play of light then saw that the gardener looks straight towards her.

Luckily, the man was also only charmed by the sparklingly dancing then vanishing ash-insects. Then he noted with a disappointed sigh that his cigarette was finished, he won’t sniffle from it anymore. He threw the butt into the bucket and went away.

Lynn put her left hand to her mouth then coughed into her palm. Coughing was refreshing. When she didn’t see the gardener, the girl straightened up and measured the wall. She already did so a couple of times when they were shepherded out onto the yard during the free time activities on weekdays. She never planned to stay here this long. When they left on weekend, then she was looking from the outside so she knew that the wall here is close to a bus stop.

She took off her sack and swung it onto the fence’s wide top where it got stuck on the barbed wire. She rubbed her hands, looked for a gap for her leg where she can put it and started to climb. Apart from the barbed wire, the fence was old; it was already standing before the War. It was guarding a hotel back then.

Lynn didn’t care about history now; she was more interested in the future. Firstly, the concrete bricks scraped her palms then the barbed wire but she didn’t care. She had a more important task; tiny things like these went for only disturbing factors. She was balancing on the top of the fence while setting the sac free from the thorns of the wire. As she succeeded, threw it to the pavement on the other side then jumped after it.

She arrived on her sole onto the pavement; her knee trembled from the sudden pain and she fell onto her stomach. She angrily swept her hair back again then looked around. Although the corridors of the orphanage were quiet, life was weltering here. On the other side of the road a pub’s door opened, people were pouring out of there; she couldn’t see its name properly but the music sounding from inside and the riot made it clear that it could be a well-known place. The curfew will take effect soon here; the fun-having and slightly tipsy youth saw it better to vanish from the streets as soon as. She quickly pushed herself upright, turned towards the wall and started to heave.

She heard as a couple of lads giggle, seeing the struggling girl; one of them also nudged her when they walked past. The trick worked at least; no one noticed that she could have come from the fence. She waited again until her camouflage soaked completely into the crowd, then turned, wiping her mouth spectacularly a couple of times, and sat down at the bus stop. A vehicle has to come soon.

She scooped into the sack and took some change from a knotted sock. She didn’t want to fumble in front of the driver. She calculated the fare in advance to get onto the bus sooner. She looked over the other waiting people; most of them were middle-aged or old, she could only see two youngsters among them. The crowd was growing by the minute; she almost started to worry that she won’t have a seat on the vehicle. It wouldn’t have been lucky if she stays here longer than necessary. Her growing anxiety was resolved by the louder and louder roaring of an engine.

At last, she glimpsed the crack-covered, smoke-spitting bus which turned into the street. She could see the green-uniformed driver through the windshield as he was bumping up and down in his seat while holding the steering wheel securely. The lights of the rectangular vehicle’s lamps swept over the old buildings then blinded the future passengers for a moment before it stopped in the bus bay, jolting.

Lynn stood into the queue between the firsts. She paid the driver, took a set-out ticket then hurried to the back of the vehicle. She plopped onto a seat, pulled her sack onto her lap and leaned to the window. A faint grin appeared on her lips as the almost full bus started and left the prison behind her which kept her prisoner since the death of her uncle.

 

As she started to calm down at last and felt herself get sleepy, her thoughts started to wander. She leaned to the vehicle’s window. Her teeth bumped together a couple of times as her body received the shake of the glass. It was unbelievable that sixty years ago cars, buses and every other vehicle were flying. She almost couldn’t believe herself. But that was another world, before the War. She was born way after the victory of the Church, in the peacetime.

She huddled up further; she started freezing despite her thick clothes. Honestly, she felt lonely; the realisation drew upon her just now. This squeezed her inside with an icy feeling, just like the cold air of the bus.

Her parents died two years after her birth; she didn’t really remember them. Her mother’s brother took her in who was a researcher in a good societal position, Professor Yannick Stanforth. She felt herself alien for a long time beside him but she accepted him as family. The uncle didn’t leave Lynn to lack anything, he took care of her and taught her himself. At the end, the girl helped her uncle as his assistant and could get to know the life before the War.

Lynn stifled a smile at the thought of the uncle. Yannick took delight in science. He introduced Lynn into this world with a similar enthusiasm. Into the world where electricity, social networking and antigravity engines existed. After the War, the Church banned all of this from the world; anything which was more complicated than a candle, could only be used with its permission. But they didn‘t let the scientific researches of those plenty of years to get lost; the supervised researchers, like her uncle, continued experimenting and upgrading in secret.

Yannick was before a big breakthrough; she almost couldn’t see him out of his lab lately. Lynn didn’t know, either what he created exactly; he didn’t let her into everything. However, she knew that in the last six months, he was visited by an unknown guy who claimed to be another researcher. Her uncle didn’t trust him; he once very loudly voiced his disapproval against the man’s presence. They couldn’t see him after that but Yannick was found dead in his lab a couple of days later. Lynn got into the orphanage after it, three weeks ago. The authorities weren’t really occupied with the murder; they ran some obligatory rounds then buried the case. Lynn could never see Yannick’s corpse; his employer, Taylan Egil identified him.

Lynn couldn’t accept this. She was sure that the culprit was the impostor who was packed off by her uncle but she didn’t have evidence. He was eager for the big discovery and tried to steal it so he broke into the lab where he bumped into Yannick who wanted to stop him so he killed the Professor. She didn’t have evidence for this script but believed that it happened like this.

One week ago, she was visited by one of the police’s man who was asking about Yannick’s researches. He said that they finished with making the inventory and will transfer the Professor’s equipment soon to make sure that his work not to get wasted.

The girl made for the laboratory now. She really hoped that they didn’t start shipping. Yannick’s big invention couldn’t get into someone else’s hand; no one else can steal the show for what his uncle worked and gave his life for. She has to find the invention before them. She will do for it to get to someone who appreciates Yannick’s life-work.

Lynn smiled again. She was self-confident about her ‘mission’. They took her uncle from her but she won’t let his memory to be forgotten. She shook and let her eyes close. She still has twenty minutes until she arrives; she can get a little sleep, she’ll need to be alert.

 

When she stepped down from the stairs of the bus, the evening wind bit into her chest until the smoke flying from the vehicle called another fit of coughing forth from her. She didn’t care about the other descenders; she started towards the hill where the place stood which she considered home. The Cherezov Estate.

It consisted of six, fifteen-storey blocks, with three flats on their every floor. The buildings were twisted; all of the levels were rotated by twenty degrees so they looked like as if giant periwinkles would have occupied the hill.

During the rebuilding of Plovdiv, the creative hell broke loose; at least here, on the south. The Church supported a lot of architects who could make all of their artistic fantasies come true. The sight was more unified on the north; the aim was the practicality, because most of the official and scientific life centred on that part of the city and the campus was also built there. The old town stayed old; criss-cross and impenetrable. And the inhabitants were mixed just like the city itself. With the completion of population migration after the War, Southeast Europe was filled with American and Indonesian fanatics just like with the amnesty-given scientists of the Ötstal Republic. It could said to be a miracle, that, at last, they didn’t tear each other apart. But Plovdiv was calm just like the world.

Lynn hurried to block number five. Something wuthered, rattling and screaming, in the distance but she didn’t pay attention to it; strange noises at night weren’t unusual here. She found the other key in the little box and opened the main door of the building.

As she stepped in, the girl almost embraced the sight of the revealed, black-red tiled lobby. Two larger bonsais stood next to both sides of the door; they greeted the people like two, elegant bellboys. A little bit tasteless, fluffy, purple rug lead to the paternoster, working in the building, but Lynn now used the stairs instead. She didn’t want to make a bigger stir than necessary. The colourfully painted walls of the staircase and the corridors always cheered her up as a child but now they only caused bitterness to her. They reminded the girl of what they took from her.

They lived on the eleventh floor. Up from the tenth floor, scientists and researchers got the flats, or rather, more than one flats in general to have a laboratory at home, so they could work anytime. This floor was completely her uncle’s. The two other flats were opened and sealed one of the doors so entering could be possible from only one direction.

And now started the ‘time travel’: the doors of the labs were protected by an electric lock which worked with a keycard. The labs themselves were also equipped with generators, computers and devices which were once natural but now are figures on the block list. When the Police Sergeant carried her away, it was when she secretly took the card needed to enter the room and the key of the building. Luckily, the officers didn’t pick up on their absence. Now she got to bring out her metal box, when she noticed that, from under the door, a wobbling light filtered out into which a green glow was mixed sometimes.

Lynn froze in her fright. There’s someone in there. They weren’t the police or the transporters clearly because she could have already seen their sign, a patrol car or a transport vehicle. There was only one imaginable answer: the murderer returned for Yannick’s invention. It can’t be anyone else. Someone else wouldn’t make sense. What should she do now? She stared at the door, at the thick steel panel which was deliberately designed against intrusion; it was almost impossible to break it in with human force. No trace of damage could be seen. It stood firmly on its place like a bribed sentinel.

She huddled up against the door and tried to eavesdrop. She heard murmuring, as if someone would talk to themselves. The door’s thickness didn’t provide her to be able to take out sensible words from what she heard. Whoever was in there, they somehow hacked the entry system or stole a key card. The method of it didn’t matter. She had to find out what she should do.

If she tries to find a police patrol herself, the burglar will be gone for sure by then and maybe take Yannick’s invention with them. Maybe she could tell Professor Molleur, who lived under them, to inform the Church. This seemed to be a good idea, but there would be no guarantee that the police would get here on time. She surely wouldn’t have a chance alone. Although, the intruder is also alone. But why are they talking to themselves?

She didn’t have time for more speculations. The door gave in to the weight leaning against it and swung in.

Lynn was immediately blinded by a sharp light. She quickly lifted her hand in front of her eyes; the brightness quickly faded. She didn’t dare to move in her fright. She tried to blink out the colourful spots flashing in front of her eyes, and then carefully lowered her hands. A pair of eyes stared at her from the dark room. Its owner made brightness again with the help of a hand-held, angular lightsource. She tried to take out something from the party’s silhouette in the poor lighting.

A young boy stood opposite her, he couldn’t be older than her with that much; dismay could be read from his face in the dark, he was scratching the back of his head nervously. It simmered from him that he was a guilty person who she now caught. But he couldn’t be the killer; he seemed more like a thief who seized the opportunity of the clearing of Yannick’s house. On the face of it, he wasn’t a ragamuffin, either.

“And who are you?” Lynn asked, angrily.

This was when she saw the second figure get on their feet from behind the desk. The blood froze in her veins. She recognised the guy: that sharp chin and the weird neckwear were unmistakeable. She stood face to face with the killer of her uncle. She felt as her mind gets overran with the searing mix of pain and rage. She couldn’t control what she does anymore.

 

Andrew winced at the creak of the entrance.

When they broke in, the Doctor tried to lull his worries with the presumption that no one will disturb them. It wasn’t like that it would have calmed him soever; the thought of breaking in already offended him. During their adventures so far, they didn’t have to get in anywhere unauthorised, or if they did, then it was the need of the situation and they had the appropriate reason for it. Although, he understood the Doctor’s real motive but the boy still doubted its relevance.

The man appeared at their place, abruptly as usual. According to his statement, he found a trace which would get them closer to the Nayads, hereby Andrew’s rescue. But this trail, which is a Nayad device, was possessed by a party who wasn’t willing to cooperate with the Doctor in any way. So he thought that if he introduces Andrew to the guy as well, maybe that will change the man’s viewpoint.

This time Stephanie didn’t go with them. Since the girl came back from the Library, she often locked herself into her room, as if she would have a secret. Andrew asked her more than once about it but didn’t get a straight answer; so he left the thing at that but was worried for his little sister deep inside. Her behaviour was strange.

The two of them started of, although he knew that Agent Adams watches his every move. He could sometimes see the Torchwood agent sauntering around the house, as if he wouldn’t trust his hypermodern observing system. It was uncomfortable after some time; he was glad that he could get free from under the observation.

However, the Doctor’s calculations didn’t work: when they appeared, the guy didn’t open the door. Moreover, his flat was empty. Only a few furniture was left in the cleaned rooms. Since they didn’t find anything there, the Doctor decided that he takes a look around in the room neighbouring the flat, maybe finding some kind of trace in relation to where the owner of the Nayad device would be. They were greeted by darkness inside, just like in the flat; Andrew was lighting with the flashlight built in his phone while the Doctor immediately crouched down at one of the tables, with the intent of finding something.

And now, the door creaked. The boy immediately shone the phone’s light there in fright and succeeded in blinding the newcomer. But, instead of the waited people, it wasn’t the police that arrived but only a girl stood at the door, covering the eyes with her hands. Andrew turned off the light guiltily.

The unnamed girl seemed just as surprised as Andrew felt. The boy turned the phone’s light on again, turning it towards the ceiling, to see in the room but didn’t want to scare the newcomer further. Seemingly, she really was frightened but he could also detect some kind of defiance in her. She was staring at Andrew as if she would be peeved.

“And who are you?”

The Doctor chose this moment to stop searching and get up from the floor. The man’s eyes widened upon seeing the girl who shook then threw herself at the Time Lord like a wild animal; she was hitting his chest with her tiny fists wherever she could. And the Doctor let her. The girl didn’t talk, she was only moaning and gasping; Andrew thought that she was crying. He took a step forward to pull his attacker away from the Doctor but the man waved him down. A hidden sadness was pouring from the Time Lord’s gaze, similar to the one he looked at Andrew with from time to time.

At last, the young attacker got tired and wasn’t hitting but started sobbing with a renewed strength. She pushed herself away from the Doctor and stood in front of him. Andrew almost saw the tensing muscles under her dark clothes.

The time traveller aimed his sonic screwdriver at the ceiling and, with a quick chirp, perfused the room with a smooth white light. It was as if the greyish white walls would have respired from the brightness caused by the strip lighting, after the dim brightness from earlier.

The room was as empty as the flat; there was nothing in there except a couple of tables, although chromatisms on the floor showed that this wasn’t the original status of the place.

The Doctor knelt down in front of his attacker who turned her gaze away sulkily. Andrew didn’t dare to go closer to the strange scene but looked the girl up and down from the distance. Her wept-out eyes were burning from anger, her straw-blonde hair fell onto her forehead and her cheeks were red. The form of her round face was contorted by the lines of her tensed jaws. She let her tears fall onto the emptied room’s floor.

Then she tempered herself, turned towards the Doctor and yelled at him.

“Why?”

It was as if the Time Lord wouldn’t have been surprised by the question. He didn’t look away, gazing into the girl’s eyes and replying with almost a whisper.

“It wasn’t me.”

The girl didn’t realise herself that she also turned down the volume a bit.

“You wait for me to believe it?”

“I don’t wait for anything. But I ask you for it, yes.”

The other didn’t answer. The Doctor used the moment’s silence and turned to his companion, giving an improvised introduction.

“Andrew, this is Lynn.”

Andrew threw a questioning look at the Doctor. He didn’t want to break the silence, although more than one questions formulated in him. Who is this girl anyway? And how did she bump into them? And what’s going on here at all?

The man continued the explanation.

“Lynn’s uncle died, not so long ago.”

An angry snort was the answer at the statement.

“Died? You killed him!”

The Doctor’s forehead was creased by wrinkles, as if he wouldn’t have wanted this information to be said. Andrew was watching him and Lynn in turn, thinking about what he’d heard, then realising where they are.

“So this is his flat?”

“Where you broke into,” Lynn added sulkily.

“Yes, we broke in, I admit.” The Doctor waved Andrew with his gaze to stay out of the discussion. “But I don’t have anything to do with his death.”

“I heard that you were arguing,” the girl accused him further.

“This is also true. Partly. You drew wrong conclusions.”

“Wrong conclusions?” Lynn ran riot. “You… you...”

The flapper fell silent. Her fright already evaporated, anger and defiance took its place; she crossed her arms in front of her. She abandoned the idea of killing or didn’t have anything to lose because she didn’t look like as if she would feel herself threatened. She wasn’t crying; she was standing with a straight back, her piercing gaze was on the Time Lord all the time.

The Doctor didn’t want to overstrain; he started to tell her them. He quickly summed up the story of the two of them and the reason why they would need Professor Yannick Stanforth’s, the uncle’s, machinery. The Nayads and time travelling were left out from the story for understandable reasons. Andrew tried not to take a breath, not to make the girl pay attention to the slants with a wrong sigh.

So he stood and was thinking about if he would be in the girl’s shoes, would he believe the Doctor. Although he couldn’t make the decision himself, the boy was sure that Lynn already chose.

 

Lynn wasn’t able to decide what to think about the man explaining in front of her, his quiet partner and this whole situation, in general. It’s not a question that the events didn’t go as she imagined while shivering on the bus.

She was very reckless when she rushed at the Doctor because she was outnumbered but she didn’t care about that then and there. Then, when not one of the burglars jumped on her, she stopped the attack. The man was like the one she remembered from those couple of occasions when she saw him with her uncle: always calm, yet it was as if his face would have been sat by the shadow of a smile, although his mouth was a straight line. His partner, the boy named Andrew, was surprised, as if the fact of the incursion wouldn’t have occurred to him until now. She chose to give them a chance. Let them explain.

The man didn’t disappoint her; he started telling the story straight away: the boy is in deadly danger and only Uncle Yannick’s invention can save him. Was it believable? Not at all. It was like a bedtime story. And, as if it had some truth, he did leave important things out of it. Maybe she headfirst thought that he was the killer? This could happen. But his intents weren’t straight, that’s for sure. At least, not like he presented them.

She sometimes looked at the boy covertly. She read incomprehension from his long face and he dug into his haystack hair from time to time. Yet, somehow, he didn’t seem guilty. As if he would also be floating with the events.

She wasn’t less mistrustful but she decided to be an adult and will do things on the score of logic, rather than guts. Namely because her instincts got confused completely, caused by maybe the place, maybe the meeting or maybe the Doctor. She felt that suddenly nothing makes sense.

“Alright, I’ll give you a chance. Prove!”

The Doctor nodded, as if accepting the peace, then straightened up. He swinged the strange cylindrical object with which he was playing and quickly slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket. But he didn’t leave the offer without a word.

“And how should I prove it?”

“If the killer isn’t you, then find him!”

The Doctor’s gaze darkened for a moment but put up his calming smile.

“Nothing’s simpler.”

“As I got back, you can tell me your plan.” Lynn started towards the door.

Of course, she didn’t want to go so far; she only wanted to bring her sack in from the corridor. She saw from the corner of her eye as that Andrew hurries to the man. He wanted to say something. Lynn stepped out of the door and quickly huddled up against the wall while pulling her sack closer with her left leg. She wanted to hear what the boy was saying. He tried to whisper but she could still hear his words.

“What is going on here, Doctor?” His trembling voice gave away the dampened anger.

“I’ll explain it later.”

“Not later. We don’t play like this! You don’t lie into my eyes!”

The Doctor was surely surprised by the fiery reaction.

“Andrew, as we’re finished, I’ll tell you everything. Really.”

The boy didn’t reply.

Lynn waited a bit more, then, when she knew that the argument won’t continue, picked up her sack and stepped back into the lab. Her knees trembled; she, at last, took in the sight in front of her. She was too occupied by analysing the Doctor’s story and so she now thought about that her uncle’s laboratory was robbed. Her heart sank. As long as she could remember, she knew this place, the tools and devices which seemed droll and dangerous in her childhood, but nothing was left in there, except the furniture. She lowered her sack onto the tiles, tears gathering into her eyes. This will soon be someone else’s home and workplace. Then the last things will disappear which bounded Yannick to this world. Except his invention, but she has to find it first. A painful sigh came up from her lungs.

She noticed that Andrew was watching her. She felt that she gets embarrassed so she turned her head quickly and covertly swept her face.

She hurried to the Doctor.

“Well? I’m listening.”

The man didn’t start a long explanation but asked a question.

“Is there a computer in here?”

Lynn pointed at one of the tables without looking. That hid the central computer unit which was connected to the Church’s servers.

“If they didn’t take it apart, that will be it.”

The cylindrical gadget appeared in the Doctor’s hand in a blink and he pointed at the shown table. The device whistled a couple of times, its end flashing with a green light and the table came alive: from its surface, the monitor emerged which was a transparent glass sheet until the operating system’s logo didn’t appear. The table in front of the screen glowed, outlining the touch-sensitive keyboard and the touch panel which controlled the cursor.

Lynn could only hope that her uncle wasn’t deleted from the system and they could get into the Church’s network with his pass. But, it seemed, the Doctor didn’t need it. At the roll’s other wave, the login screen greeted them. The man, as if he would have been here before, hustled deeper and deeper with every sweep into the subtle labyrinths of the canonical servers, so deep that it seemed theoretically impossible. The monitor flashed again and again as the appearing folders and screens changed with a speed that a human eye wasn’t able to follow it. Somehow, the Doctor was capable of it.

“They don’t have your uncle’s details,” the man confirmed Lynn’s fears. “But I did find one of his folders, hidden in the depths of one of the police servers.”

The girl only shook her head. A hidden folder? On a police server? What would Uncle Yannick’s files do there? Of course, the Doctor didn’t wait for permission to open the folder which wore the name ‘MDC’. The title was pointless to Lynn. She couldn’t dampen her shocked cry as she saw the folder’s contents. At her voice Andrew also slank there to take a look at the screen above her shoulder.

But Lynn wasn’t interested in the boy or the Doctor; her gaze was fixed on the screen. On the white background pictures and videos emerged with her uncle appearing on the latter. She took delight in it at first; it lightened her heart that she could see her uncle’s well known rectangular face again. He was a bit younger back then but who cared? It was as if she could have found herself face to face with Yannick’s spiritual heritage. But she realised that the situation wasn’t this simple. As she took a better look at Yannick, she realised that his face is strained by tears. She had never seen him cry.

‘“...from the hospital,” said a voice from the past. “Emily is not well, there’s barely life in her. Phineas already died in the explosion; I think he was the luckiest. It’s horrible, seeing her like this.” His voice broke and he wiped his eyes. “But… the man said that they entrust Lynn to me; she doesn’t have another relative. I don’t know whether I’m ready for this. I’m not parent...”’

Lynn noticed from the corner of her eye that the Doctor pulls Andrew away; they left her alone with the recordings. Maybe they were talking, maybe they weren’t, she couldn’t tell; only Uncle Yannick’s words got through the fog of her pain. She felt that she’s throttled by sobs.

‘“This girl is an idiot, that’s what I’m saying,” Yannick giggled on another recording. “She was eavesdropping again. She always does that. Where could she learn that? And then she ran into her room, screaming, when Portia caught her.” His gaze clouded over for a moment. “Portia will go away, I’m sure of it. I don’t know whether she knows this but I can see it on her. She was visited by a guy last week in a weird newsman-red coat. I was eavesdropping. Maybe Lynn learnt it from me,” he smiled bitterly. “I don’t know what they’re talking about exactly but...”’

A few memories dawned on Lynn about the mentioned woman. Maybe she was eight when that certain Portia was Yannick’s frequent visitor. That was the time when the Church’s more important scientists picked up on her uncle; they moved to Plovdiv not long after that. She was sure back then that Portia is only one of her uncle’s colleagues. So, she was wrong. And this explains why he was so sad when they didn’t meet anymore.

The next recording was made in the lab where they stood now. Yannick wore a multipocketed white cloak which sleeves he rolled up of. He always did that; it was one of his habits. He was holding a black-covered book in his hand on which was a letter T, made up from red hexagons.

‘“I’ve got it,” the uncle flaunted. “I went through all of the town’s antiquaries but I finally have it.” He turned the book and the signature of Lynn’s mother was revealed on its back. “Emily signed this one. The first edition. Lynn will be fourteen tomorrow; I can barely wait how her eyes will widen when she sees this in the morning.”’

She almost jumped out of her skin, at least that’s what Lynn remembered, although that birthday was more than a year ago; every moment of it stayed with her. She took that book everywhere; it now also rested in the fabric sack.

The video diaries, although there were a lot of them, ran out and other kinds of recordings took their place. On those, her uncle was fussing about around an operating table-like thing. She once found Yannick asleep on it after a work-filled night. But the table wasn’t empty now; a body was lying on it. It seemed human at first but Lynn soon noticed the frightening differences. And the more frightening similarities. At a few places, thin wires hung from under the skin and the jaw slipped away. But this jaw matched Yannick’s. The greying red-brown hair, the muscled arms and broad shoulders, all matched.

“He’s building a robot.” The Doctor interrupted her thinking.

Lynn didn’t notice when the man and his partner stepped back behind her.

“This was very evident, thank you for attracting attention to it,” the girl murmured. “Other excellent observations?”

“He tries to copy the Adele Experiment.”

Although Lynn already suspected this, the sentence still ripped into her soul like a spear. Yes, this is exactly what happens: Yannick rebuilds the world’s most illicit project, moreover, on his own likeness. When did her lightheaded uncle change into a mad scientist?

“What’s that?” Andrew asked.

The girl stared at him, shocked. Is there anyone who doesn’t know this?

 

Andrew felt sorry for the girl. She dashed in like a fury and now seemed like a fragile flower as she just stood numbly in front of the monitor and stared at the man’s videos. He could be Professor Stanforth. His niece wiped her face from time to time but couldn’t hide the pain which tortured her soul. Andrew could completely understand this pain. He already felt it.

Then the recordings ended and the picture of an operating table appeared. The Doctor stepped behind Lynn and waved Andrew there.

The boy watched curiously what took place on the screen: the Professor was fussing about around a body. It could be a human body at first but then the grotesque details came into view: the wires, the slipped jaw and the bonelike formations, hanging from the stumpy fingers. However, he immediately noticed that it could even be Stanforth’s twin.

“He’s building a robot,” the Doctor turned to him.

“This was very evident, thank you for attracting attention to it.” The girl’s comment was completely righteous; it wasn’t hard to notice what lies on the table. “Other excellent observations?”

“He tries to copy the Adele Experiment.” This wasn’t that univocal.

“What’s that?” Andrew tore his gaze away from the screen.

“In 2173 an Ötztalian group of scientists created the robot version of Adele Mountberry, a girl who they reconstructed from her diaries. It can be said perfect; she didn’t know herself that she’s only a robotic masterpiece. But the Church, which wasn’t the fan of robots at the time, took personally that the team violate the Creator’s work like this.”

“And they threw bombs at everyone,” Lynn added with a foggy gaze but she was still watching the video.

“The data of Adele 2.0 were lost before the end of the War, or rather, destroyed. However, the Church didn’t stop there. After the victory, they took every town apart which supported the robot researches and banned every technology which contains only a dash of electronics.”

“That’s why there are oil lamps.” Andrew nodded but then added, “But there’s electricity here.”

“Because Yannick worked for the Church. They only banned advanced technology but didn’t want to get rid of it. They continued their own researches.”

“This is evil,” the boy hissed.

“You think?”

“So,” Andrew pointed towards the monitor, “that, on the screen, would be the Professor’s clone. He made diaries, as it was at the original experiment...” He looked at the Doctor whose gaze told him that the man waits of another crumb of information. “And you suspect that they didn’t do it alone, don’t you? The Nayads?”

“The Nayads.” The Time Lord nodded.

“Whatyads?” The girl turned around. “What are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The Doctor waved. “But I think we found the reason.”

There was shouting on the screen; all three of them turned their heads. There was another recording playing; Yannick seemed exhausted: there were circles darkening under his eyes. The robot was conscious, his brown eyes fixed on the Professor.

‘“What is this?” the machine asked. “What kind of trick?”

“Calm down.” The Professor tried to silence his lookalike. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I haven’t done anything!” the robot shouted. “I haven’t done anything!” Its gaze was skipping round and round. “What are you doing in my lab? Get out! Get out!”

The robot’s fear went into aggression; the snarl of a cornered beast sat out onto his face. It grabbed after Stanforth, could snatch at his coat and pull him towards it. Its palms locked around the neck of its creator and started to strangle him. The Professor was choking while trying to draw the killer hands, practically his hands, off himself as he snatched the air with bulging eyes. In this moment, the camera shook as someone ran past it. An Arabian man stepped into view and quickly appeared behind the robot. Before it could react, he jabbed a needle into its neck. The machine relaxed; the hands, ready for murder, fell innocently next to its falling body.

“Yannick, we have to talk!”

“Later, now help!” the Professor shouted crossly while reaching under the robot.’

Andrew realised the wall-leant caskett-like case just now. The scientist, despite of the Arabian’s every explanation, ‘folded’ the robot into the case then locked the transparent plexi-lid on it. The recording ended after this and there were no more videos in the folder, only the blueprints about the robot and a few pictures about the process of its creation.

“He’s Taylan Egil, Uncle Yannick’s boss.” Lynn pointed at the screen. “Maybe he reported my uncle.”

“Maybe.” The Time Lord was nodding contemplatively. “But I don’t think that he was the killer.”

“He knows something. That’s for sure,” Lynn insisted. “Let’s find him! I know where he lives.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Andrew asked carefully.

“He knows about that robot.” The flapper snapped at him. “If you have a better idea, I’ll listen; otherwise it’s better if you stay quiet.”

The boy looked at the Doctor, asking for help, but support didn’t arrive from him; the Time Lord’s answer told that he agrees with the plan.

“The curfew has already started. It’s better if we are quiet and careful.”

As Andrew stared at the alien, confused and shocked, Lynn put her sac on her back.

“I’m waiting.” The girl was standing in front of the door.

Andrew wasn’t glad of the situation; the Doctor gave full control to Lynn. This isn’t his habit; he doesn’t like to be in the background on his own adventure. The boy didn’t like something in all of this but until he couldn’t identify its source, he instead banished it into one of the farthest corners of his mind.

The Doctor waved the sonic above the computer then the generator; making darkness falling on the room. Lynn opened the door and sneaked out; the Doctor following her. Andrew looked back at the mournful, empty room then, taking a deep breath, hurried after them.

 


	20. Lynn, Part Two

Lynn Grayshel flung herself into the crisp night with a new lilt.

She wasn’t bothered by the cold biting her face and the wind clinging into her clothes; she had something at last. A trail which maybe takes her to the killer of Uncle Yannick. It was a faint trace, that’s true, because she didn’t have of that Egil really had his hand in the murder, but it’s sure that he knew about Yannick’s robot. It was enough for him to be a suspect.

A voice was still wondering in her head why she could resign her earlier suspicions about the Doctor this easily but as long as the man works under her hand, she doesn’t have any problem with the situation. If necessary, she could still report him for burglary anytime.

Of course, she was bothered by what she discovered. It wouldn’t have came to her mind that her uncle could descend to do something like this. What could make him do so? The Church punishes the idea of creating a robot more than anything; robots couldn’t be seen in factories either, although every one of them was presumably automatized. And now Yannick, in his own laboratory, puts a robot together by himself. Of course, the Professor could be irresponsible sometimes, but not this much; he wasn’t a laughing-in-the-face-of-death type. And now this!

Lynn shook her head, letting the cold air to pervade her lungs. She had to clear her thoughts; she had to systematise them. Although her world turned upside down and got ready to do another cartwheel, she couldn’t let this throw her off balance. She looked around after taking a deep breath.

She knew where Egil lived; in a taller apartment building, at the side of the city centre. The way there, mostly, seemed safe. The streets and alleyways of the historian part of the town provided them security; policemen, from laziness, were patrolling less there, at least with a car. And they could easily avoid a pedestrian. Their first thing however, is to get down from the hill of Chezerov Estate which was parted from the forest of houses by an avenue. As it’s done, the rest is child’s toy.

She quickly depicted her plan to her involuntary partners.

“Whoever sees a cop will tell me immediately! They can’t catch us. You don’t want to know the reeducational camps.” With this, she finished what she wanted to say.

As they got to the base of the hill, Lynn’s worst nightmare came true: she saw a patrol car approaching, searchlights sweeping the shadowy edges of the avenue from the vehicle’s windows.

The girl froze. Her mission can’t end here, now that she’s on the scent.

It seemed Andrew didn’t lose his composure: he grabbed the girl and pulled her back. Lynn almost screamed but could luckily control herself. She landed between the bushes bordering the pavement. The boy was also crouching next to her and the Doctor one bush away. In any other cases, she would have taken the boy’s head off but realised that he didn’t do a bad thing. He literally succeeded in pulling her out of the trance.

The wheels of the police car squeaked then the vehicle stopped, accompanied by a dull bang. Lynn feared that they would see them but the police didn’t drag them out from between the bushes. She carefully peeked out from between the still verdure leaves and saw as a figure lies in front of the car. They hit someone. The headlights exposed a raggedy figure, maybe a homeless, she couldn’t tell. The vehicle’s driver jumped out immediately; his dark blue uniform almost swallowing the light. His partner followed him suit. They approached the shape from two sides but he howled when one of them crouched down beside him. He jumped up, seemingly scot-free, but started to curse the two uniformed men.

This was when Lynn felt that someone is knocking on her shoulder. It was the Doctor, signalling with his head that they should move.

They tried to huddle up but it was seemingly unnecessary; the policemen were occupied by the homeless. One of them already took a pair of handcuffs from his belt. They couldn’t have noticed the trio sneaking away in the dark.

Though Lynn couldn’t see how the scene ended, maybe their saviour was taken away, she was grateful for the sudden guardian angel. She was lucky tonight.

 

Andrew tightened his coat around him as he was walking in Lynn’s wake between the tall walls of houses. The girl showed the way; he payed attention to the girl and the Doctor attended to their surroundings. And their surroundings really surprised the boy. He waited something else from the future.

He was distressed by what the Doctor had said, in the Professor’s laboratory. A world without technology? The thought of it made him shiver. He couldn’t even imagine a world like this. He understood its purpose, of course, because it was easier to keep in check the inhabitants of a planet where you had the technological advantage but the idea was still horrible.

From the windows of the old houses light was filtering out sometimes but they were shaking and trembling as if their sources would have been candles, probably they were. The cold, trembling lights of gas lanterns drew ghostlike figures from shadows on the walls. It was as if the icy wind would have been whooshing better in the alleyways they were going through.

Their feet drummed an excited rhythm on the concrete. They didn’t run into anyone; the locals took the curfew very seriously but the trio got some suspicious looks from behind a few windows. Andrew was suddenly grateful for this world being without technology so no one could call the police to report the disturbers. Furthermore, in the absence of light pollution, the star-dotted sky could cover them like a blanket; the light of the expanding Moon stroked the rooftops. In spite of the clear sky, it was as if Andrew, from the corner of his eye, would have seen a larger shadow glide over the silverly sparkling tiles.

“Look!” he exclaimed when the spectacle repeated itself.

“Don’t shout!” Lynn hissed. “What?”

“There was something on the roof.” Andrew pointed but he knew that it was redundant; his partners won’t be able to see the shadow.

The Doctor took out the sonic reflexively and aimed at the direction of the roof. The device chirped a couple of times; its green light mixing with the slight brightness provided by the gas lanterns. The man shook his head at last; he didn’t find anything, of course.

“Maybe it was only a cloud, flying in front of the Moon.”

Andrew couldn’t decide whether the time traveller really believes what the boy says or he only wants to calm Andrew. The lad left it at that; he couldn’t keep the team up any longer. However, he was looking behind him more often above his shoulder. He took part in enough adventures to know that he can’t ignore his inner alarm.

Lynn led them into a completely different part of town. They left the weathered-walled old buildings which yielded the place to rectangular grey-walled houses. These buildings hastened towards the sky, leaving each other behind, in some kind of race. The streets here were orderly and not criss-cross. The aim was squarely the functionality; it seemed that this precinct can’t be as old as the other parts of the town. It was as if Andrew could have seen a construction crane in the distance. He somehow felt the weird pulley towers to be friendlier which they left on the hill.

Lynn hurried to the gate of one of the grey towers and stepped to the doorbell. This being here signalled that the people living in the building were working for the Church. While she was looking for the button that was fit up with Egil’s name, Andrew looked up at the tower. Its grey walls reflected the light of the Moon but it was as if he could have seen that strange shadow again, just for a moment.

Then the bell buzzed as Lynn pushed the appropriate button. Andrew turned his gaze away from the wall and waited for what happens. The buzzing became cracking and a voice replied.

“Taylan Egil’s flat. Who is this?”

“It’s Lynn Grayshel.” The girl tried to hide her excitement.

“Lynn?” The speaker fell silent for a couple of seconds. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to you.”

“And… are you alone?” It was as if the man’s voice would have trembled.

Lynn looked back at the two time travellers then quickly replied.

“Yes.”

“Alright.” The other sighed. “Come up!”

The lock beeped and the door opened. Lynn ran forward, not intending to waste time. The two time adventurers hurried after her. There was no turning back now.

 

Lynn went up the stairs; she let excitement rush in her body. She felt herself limber, faster and stronger. She didn’t care whether the others follow her; she was at only an arm’s reach from what she wanted. She appeared on the seventh floor then at Egil’s door within moments.

However, she did come to a halt in front of the steel door. She now felt the weight of what she was about to do. But there was no turning back.

She glanced towards the stairs where the Doctor and Andrew were approaching. She took a deep breath and knocked.

Although she couldn’t hear any noises, she could imagine as the Arabian man stumbles to the door. The steel sheet moved shortly. It opened a crack, revealing Egil’s face in the gap. He couldn’t see the others from that angle, so as he saw Lynn, opened the door. But when he stepped out to invite the girl in, dismay sat onto his face.

“What’s going on here?” His eyes were fixed on the strangers.

“We have to talk!” Lynn said firmly. “Inside.”

Egil backed into the room; his gaze was jumping to and fro nervously, his right hand shaking. He tried to compose himself: he neatened his shirt and stroked over his neatly trimmed beard no to seem shaggy but he couldn’t strip his fright. Lynn was glad that she could use this up.

“Lynn, I don’t understand this,” the man stammered. “It was said that Sergeant Vlodiff will bring you here.”

Now Lynn had the chance to be surprised. It was said? Who decided this? Who’s that Vlodiff? Was this some kind of code?

“Vlodiff is dead,” the Doctor said simply.

“Oh my God!” Egil put his hand in front of his mouth.

Lynn was happy for the Doctor’s improvisation; they succeeded in fending the subject.

“Then now you’re looking after her?” the Arabian asked.

“I’m John Smith.” The Doctor showed up an ID case, seemingly calming the Arabian. “Now I’m taking care of her. Could we talk?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Egil stuttered then waved to the trio. “Come in! Coffee or tea, anyone?”

Lynn’s and her new partners’ eyes met. Andrew seemed just as obtuse as she was but the Doctor hid it well if he was. The man stepped forward without a word, in front of the two youngsters. They followed the scientist in this lineup.

 

Andrew’s inner alarm was now screaming continuously. It could be seen that Lynn lost control; the situation didn’t work out as she waited it. The Doctor immediately took her place like as if he wouldn’t have been surprised. He stood between them, maybe to protect the children if Egil tries to trick them.

The flat seemed simple; a soft red carpet covered the floor of the hall. They passed a rack which was pulled down by the weight of a lot of coats. The lightbulbs pulled their lights unitedly from under the globe and the rooms were pervaded by the cozy scent of some kind of oriental censer.

The Arabian scientist led them the room next to the kitchen. Andrew felt himself uncomfortable the windowless rooms; it wasn’t natural to not be able to look out from the flat. Egil’s shaking hand was fumbling for the light switch on the green wallpaper then turned it up when he found it.

They were standing in a dayroom; shelves of books compassed another wide, tawny carpet. The furnishing was amended by a green armchair and a little table with unclamped paper sheets.

However, between two shelves, there stood the casket that they saw on Yannick’s recordings. Lynn groaned when she noticed it. And the robot’s contours could be seen through the foggy surface of the plexi top. Egil waved towards the armchair which Lynn made use of, taking her sack off her back and putting it down to the floor. The others remained standing.

“What is this doing here?” The girl miscredited.

“Yannick left him with me,” Egil said softly. “He only waits for you. We discussed that Sergeant Vlodiff takes you here straight from the orphanage at the end of the month. Sad what happened to him.” The scientist lowered his head. “But thank you for bringing her here!” He patted the Doctor’s shoulder.

“No problem.” The Time Lord smiled.

“Maybe things happened quickly,” the scientist was brooding, “but you being here isn’t really a problem.”

Andrew was worriedly watching the girl who was still shocked; her eyes were fixed on the case. She didn’t understand this but neither did Andrew. They discussed something? Egil waited for Lynn, a policeman had to bring her here.

“What’s going on here?” she asked the Doctor.

Before the man could say anything, there was a monstrous riot. A high pitched screaming filled the room. Andrew put his hands over his ears, protecting himself from the noise. Lynn was still staring dizzily but was snarling painfully.

After a few moments, cracks appeared on the wall opposite Andrew then two red dots, three metres from each other which became lines and went forward clockwise. As the two misshapen strips met, the wall snapped and issued out of its place. The large part of the debris fell out at the street put the dust still poured into the room, making it impossible to see. Andrew instinctively threw himself to the ground, with Egil hoping for protection behind his lifted arms. The Doctor reached after his sonic screwdriver.

The dust-storm was stirred up by the blowing wind. Andrew noticed as a figure jumps in through the gap.

It was as if the shadows themselves would have came alive, the shape straightened up; its silhouettes were flaunting and irregular. But they still gave the form of a man. He reached out his two strangely ending hands towards Egil and the Doctor. A sudden gust of wind rolled out the dust, along with some papers which were left on the table. This was when Andrew recognised the weird forms: they were pistols. Before anyone could do anything, the two guns flinched in unison; the sound of the bang stifled the roaring wind.

Egil swung backwards, not having time for a scream; the launched bullet punched a third eye in the middle of his forehead. The lifeless body gave way then was turned out through the hole on the wall by the kick of the shadow-shape.

The Doctor slackened immediately as well; his eyes stuck and his body leant to the doorframe. Andrew exclaimed angrily but fell silent when he stood face to face with the throat of the weapon which killed Egil. However, the attacker didn’t shoot him but kept him at bay, aiming his other gun at Lynn.

Andrew, although his heart was pounding in his throat, tried to stay calm while looking the man up and down. He wasn’t made from shadows like he thought the guy was: he wore black clothes from head to toe. His long coat was torn by the wind and his face was hidden by a cloak but two green light dots glowed from under it, as if he would have worn a night vision.

“Calm down!” he said on a raspy voice. “I don’t want to hurt anyone!”

The statement was pretty ironic.

The boy tried to stagger to his feet; the man let him but took a few steps towards him. Then suddenly turned his hands out so the pistols were looking towards the sky.

“See?”

Lynn’s body was shaken by a silent sob. She was seemingly shocked.

“Would you put her in order?” The attacker waved towards the girl.

Andrew swallowed then carefully stepped to Lynn; he didn’t want to take a sudden step. He knelt in front of the armchair and put his hand onto the girl’s knee.

“Lynn,” he whispered, but there was no reaction. “Lynn!” He raised his voice a little and the girl looked at him at last. “Listen, everything will be alright. Don’t look there, watch only me! Everything will be okay.”

The girl probably didn’t believe what he said, but at least, she calmed down. The man meanwhile put away one of the guns, only leaving the one out with which he shot the Doctor. This was when Andrew noticed the bracelet and the chain of handcuffs on his left wrist. On his other hand, in which he held the gun, there was only the bracelet. The boy was still talking to Lynn while looking in the Doctor’s direction from time to time.

The Time Lord’s eyes were almost turned inside and his mouth was open. But he was breathing. Did he act that he was shot? Maybe he jumps up in any minute and disarms their attacker. The attacker who now started to whistle. It seemed he wasn’t bothered by the howling wind, the cold, the dust and, not to mention, the two scared youngsters. This is unbelievable! The guy was whistling!

“I don’t want trouble,” the cloaked spoke again. “And you don’t want one, either, trust me. I only need what’s inside the case.”

“Why?” Lynn squeezed the question out of her.

“Maybe you don’t understand but that robot shouldn’t exist. Not here and not now.”

“Then why don’t you destroy it already?” the girl shouted.

Andrew understood the sudden outburst. This was about Stanforth’s heritage, the last thing that was left for Lynn. But the man only shrugged. Lynn’s burning gaze now was fixed on him; if the girl would have had the power, she probably could burn a hole into the man.

“Who are you?” Andrew suddenly asked.

He thought that he prolongs the conversation while giving some time to the Doctor to begin his brilliant plan. He surely had a brilliant plan. He had to!

“You want a name?” The attacker was turning his head under the cloak. “Then you’ll get one. Let’s say… Erudito. What about that? Call me Erudito. Now do you believe what I’m saying?”

“Not really.” Andrew sent another look towards the Doctor.

“Then why did you ask? Never mind, listen; I see that you are the one who I can negotiate with. I only ask for the girl to open the container.”

“Me?” Lynn was taken aback. “Why me?”

“‘Cause it has bioscanner?” Erudito retorted mockingly. “You didn’t notice the glowing green button on the container’s side?”

Andrew looked back and he had to admit that the cloaked was right. On the side of the case, there really was a digit green surface which was squared by flashing lines. So this is what Egil meant by that the container was waiting for the girl: only she could open it.

“You see? You see!” Erudito’s green light spots jumped onto Lynn. “So you go there, open it, then you may go. In peace.”

Andrew squinted towards the time traveller. He could really do something now!

“Lynn, would you be so kind to open that bloody container?” Erudito seemed more and more impatient, emphasising his words with the waving of his gun.

The girl got up from the armchair, shaking, and walked to the coffin. Erudito stepped closer while pushing Andrew away.

“Use your thumb!” he ordered.

Lynn did as the man told her. Her hand trembled a little but she strengthened herself, steeling her mind. She put her thumb onto the scanner which soon signalled the acceptance of the genetic code with a beep. The container’s built-in engine whirred up and an alleviator pumped the smoke out of it, hissing. The robot slowly came into sight. He stood in the coffin but looked like as if he would be sleeping. He really looked like Stanforth.

Erudito watched the clearing plexi-casing, enchanted and Lynn put her hand onto the glass as if she could touch the machine inside which embodied the work of her uncle.

“Now move away from there!” the armed snarled at the girl.

“No!” Lynn turned rusty. “This is mine! My heritage.”

Andrew looked at the girl, flabbergasted. What is she doing? Did she lose her mind? She just makes him shoot her. He now accepted that he can’t rely on the Doctor. It was on him to not let Lynn fall victim to the murderer.

“I said move!” the man shouted and waved with his gun to the side again. “Move or I shoot!”

Realisation hit Andrew: when Erudito waved the pistol, his side, pointing towards the boy, was unprotected. Vik’s lessons weren’t in vain, after all. He quickly thought over what he was about to do. He knew that he was about to do something stupid. He knew that he has only a slight chance to win. But he couldn’t let this mad man shoot Lynn.

“I tell you the last time! Move away!” Another wave.

Andrew threw himself forward.

His head hit Erudito’s stomach, lifting his left arm to protect Lynn, if the gun fires involuntarily. From the momentum, they flew into the armchair in which the girl was sitting not a long time ago. The pistol took flight, spinning. The boy felt that Erudito’s body moves; the man didn’t leave himself. As his back touched the armchair, held his leg in position next to the furniture and pushed themselves back.

They bumped into the container which sprung open, nudging them at the same time. But now Erudito had the advantage.

Andrew groaned when he fell on his back. His shoulder was grabbed and nailed to the ground by his opponent’s ten strong fingers. The man lifted him once to slam him to the floor. Andrew’s head started to feel wobbly from the hit; the world was dancing around him. As his sight cleaned, he noticed the two green light dots which were burning from under the cloak. They were staring at him.

“Why, why?” the man said aloud. “We could have solved this nicely. But I appreciate your courage, let’s say. We’ll finish quickly.” He lifted his left hand to hit.

Andrew got ready for the slam but, when the arm reached the peak of its orbit, he noticed the movement which told him the plan of his opponent: he pulled the fingers of his hand backwards. And from under his coat sleeve, an energy blade jumped out which was hissing with a yellow light. Andrew grabbed the chain, hanging from the man’s arm, with his free right hand and pulled while kicking with his left leg. Erudito didn’t expect the movement, the sudden momentum pulled him forwards; the energy blade riving the floor next to Andrew.

Erudito turned to the left immediately and gave Andrew an advantage to turn right. But the man was on his feet straight away. He kicked towards the boy who fell back, losing his balance. Erudito leant over him, the wind blowing his long black coat again. The man was struggling to take out his other gun from the holder on his hip.

“I thought we could do this peacefully. But you aren’t up for seeing the bigger contexts. If just a little...”

“Throw it away!” Lynn’s voice sounded.

The girl aimed the gun at Erudito which was mislaid by the man in the short grapple. It could be seen that she was trembling but tried to keep it on her target. While the man was watching the girl, Andrew pushed himself backwards and succeeded in sitting up.

The green light dots looked the girl up and down then the armed stretched out his hand as if he would have had the mood to laugh.

“Come on… You should only have a gun in your hand, if you want to use it, girl.” He was detractive.

“I will” Lynn was everything but convincing.

Erudito was laughing for real.

“I could have believed it to the boy.” He hitched up his hand which was holding the pistol. “But let’s see who’s the fastest!”

A shot sounded. Lynn closed her eyes, the gun springing out of her hand, and fell to the ground. Andrew threw himself at the girl immediately. Meanwhile Erudito stepped back and the boy could still see as the man jumps out through the wall, accompanied by an exclamation.

He didn’t care about the guy; he could have even jumped into his death but the boy would have been surprised when that happened. He arrived next to the petrified Lynn, slipping. He quickly checked but couldn’t see an injury on her.

“Where did he shoot you?” he asked, almost shouting.

Lynn looked herself up and down, flabbergasted.

“Nowhere,” she whispered. “He missed.” She smiled.

Wet coughing interrupted the relief of the moment. Andrew turned his head into the direction of the noise. Lynn screamed next to him.

Blood was pouring from the stomach of the container’s resident; blood covering his mouth. He spit another potion with every cough. His eyes were open, though his gaze stayed blurry. It wasn’t sure that he took in anything from what he saw. His hand was searching for something to cling onto but, as he couldn’t find any, fell to the ground, slipping on the bloodstain. Lynn pushed Andrew away and appeared next to him immediately.

 

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

This one word was echoing in Lynn’s head, louder and louder.

She appeared at the injured; she wasn’t able to digest what she saw. She turned him to not lie on his face in front of her while taking off her jumper and, not caring about the cold, pressing it onto the stomach wound. Maybe this will make the bleeding stop, maybe it can be reversed. Maybe there’s a solution.

The body shook; he could have started convulsing. He coughed again, spitting more blood. But he finally noticed the person who was fighting for his life. His once warm brown eyes were glassy but he could still see. And he saw Lynn. His niece.

“Lynn?”

“Uncle Yannick!” the girl exclaimed. “I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay. Look at me!” She was crying again but now let her tears fall. Maybe they could heal his injuries.

“Lynn,” the greying man coughed, “I didn’t want it like this.”

“Don’t talk! We’ll solve this.” Lynn could barely speak fluently; she was gasping.

“Lynn!” Yannick’s voice became fainter and fainter. “Lynn… I’m sorry!”

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

This one word was repeating itself again and again. It filled her mind, her soul and showed itself in each falling teardrop.

This can’t be like this. After all this time, it can’t be like this! This isn’t fair. They can’t take Uncle Yannick from here once again.

She was still calling for the man who raised her, who she lost a month ago and who she loses once more. She was still calling for him but to no avail. The fog of death covered his eyes; no more air came from his throat. His parts shook for the last time.

Lynn shouted, gathering her every strength, then fell onto the body as if she could have protected it from the touch of death this way. Her sobbing filled the room.

 

Andrew was watching the scenes immovably.

At first, he couldn’t understand how a robot could bleed. Then realised that it wasn’t the robot that was doing it: the case contained Yannick Stanforth himself. Lynn recognised this sooner than the boy did. Andrew didn’t know how, didn’t know why; he only knew that the girl lost her last relative in these minutes. In front of his eyes.

He felt himself like an intruder, indecent. He shouldn’t have witnessed the scene. He was a stranger here.

He fought himself to his feet and walked to the gap yawning on the wall. If he strained his eyes, he saw Egil’s corpse which was surrendered by a few birds. The boy became nauseous so he pushed himself away from the pit and turned to the Doctor.

The man was still alive but it was no wonder why he couldn’t expect the Time Lord’s help. A disk stuck to his head behind his ear; the boy couldn’t see it from his former position. He went closer to examine the device and found it similar to the one that was used on Pluvia when the aggression-controller stopped. ‘Maybe a Weeping Angel would be the only thing that it wouldn’t be able to knock out,’ this was what one of the Wakilan’dar carer said. Erudito nicely disposed the Time Lord with it. Which meant that the gun, which was held by Lynn, was only a stun gun. Would the girl have shot if she knew this?

He looked the Doctor up and down but couldn’t help him; he had to wait for the effect of the stun-disk to expire. He couldn’t do anything for anyone here and now.

Or could he?

Lynn was still crying, leaning over Stanforth, her body was shaking but not from only the weeping. The wind of the night didn’t leave her untouched; it didn’t care about her grief. The girl’s fingers already started to turn blue. Andrew took off his coat and covered the girl with it who stopped sobbing for a moment, looked at the boy and fell on his neck, continuing crying there. Andrew hugged her back involuntarily. He couldn’t leave her without support. He knew what she’s going through now; at least, he suspected. He already experienced this.

They waited for the sunrays of the dawn like this.

 

As if it would have been evoked by the looming brightness, the Doctor blinked a couple of times. He shook his head, as if he would be able to free himself from the effect of the stun-disk without a problem. His limbs were probably numb because he stretched. Andrew watched the slow awakening quietly. He didn’t dare to talk nor move; Lynn fell asleep, cried herself to sleep. He didn’t want to wake her. She had better thing to do in her dreams.

The Time Lord stood up at last and noticed the horrible situation. A regretful expression sat onto his face; the one Andrew knew well. With his gaze, he signalled the man not to come closer. The Doctor listened to him; he searched for his fallen screwdriver then circled the Professor’s corpse. He examined the container with the sonic until finding a hidden compartment in it. After opening, a seemingly whistle or flute-like object slipped out which was made from gold. Andrew recognised it from its features: it was another piece of the Trickster’s works.

The doctor noted the object’s finding with a nod then, as quietly as he went there, hurried out of the room and the flat. Andrew was sure that he went for the TARDIS.

He didn’t get back before Lynn woke up. The girl looked around, confused, and then was ran down by the memories of last night. She drew apart from Andrew.

“Thank you,” she said.

He couldn’t hear the girl talk this gently before.

“Thank you for going at that beast and staying here with me.”

“No problem,” Andrew replied, blushing.

“There is,” Lynn sighed. “But I can’t return it. I don’t have anything.” She looked at Yannick’s corpse. “Or anyone.”

Their eyes met; Lynn’s sad ones, her blonde blood-sticky hair made Andrew be sorry again. He shared the girl’s grief.

Lynn took a deep breath; what she wanted to say inked to her. But she did it in the end.

“Could I go with you? I know that it’s a big thing to ask and why would you allow it anyway but...”

“Yes,” the boy interrupted her gently. “You could.”

The girl noted the answer with a silent but grateful nod. Andrew got to his feet and helped the girl up from the ground. He turned the armchair to face away from Yannick’s corpse then made her sit in it. He went to the kitchen after that and looked for the tea that was mentioned by Egil. It was a very bizarre situation but he didn’t want to go away from there, so the Doctor won’t think that they got lost. He used the gas-cooker with ease and soon got back with a steaming glass. Lynn took it with a grateful look.

It was as if the angry girl from last night has never been there, the one he met last night. But Andrew was sure that the same fury was still in her but now it was easier to deny these feelings.

As Lynn stopped drinking, silence fell onto the sad room; only the wind whooshed sometimes. The girl was only staring in front of her and Andrew was watching her. He cleared his throat at last and broke the silence.

“I don’t think you know what you volunteer for if you come with me.”

“I do,” Lynn pinned down. “I don’t have anything here. At least I know you.”

Her last words were swept away by a newer, powerful rush of wind but it didn’t come from outside. A screaming, heaving sound signalled that the TARDIS intends to land. The contours of the blue box appeared in the air, her lamp flashing with every blow. Lynn was watching the timeship’s materialisation with bated breath.

“What is this?” she stared at the phone box.

The box’s door opened and the Doctor appeared; the light, glowing from the back, washed away his contours.

“Are you coming, Andrew? I arranged everything; Lynn will have a good time...”

“She’s coming with us,” the boy interrupted.

The Doctor tried to protest at first but gave up, having seen his companion’s determined expression.

“Then come!”

Andrew helped the girl up and picked her drape sack from the ground which was lying on the original position of the armchair. He accompanied her into the TARDIS, the door closed behind them then a soft tremble signalled that the spaceship got off. Lynn was watching the much bigger inside with wide eyes but didn’t say a word.

“Can she get a room?” Andrew asked.

“I already made it.” The Doctor slammed the keyboard and waved towards the stairs. “It will be that way; through the corridor, the third door backwards on the left. There’s a shower there as well.”

The boy led the girl to the room, giving back her bag when they got there. He said goodbye at the door temporarily.

“Will you explain me all this?” Lynn looked around. “Of course, only after I put myself in order,” she stroked her hair which was dried into a mess.

“And after you rested. Then I’ll tell you everything.” Andrew smiled at her.

He knew that his smile seemed fake. The girl didn’t even close the door when he was already running towards the control room. The Doctor was next to tell him everything after what happened.

The man was surprised when Andrew stepped into the central room.

“I thought you also rest. I made a bunk bed.” He tried to grin but the corner of his mouth only trembled a little when he changed his mind.

Andrew could imagine the dark circles around his eyes from the vigilance all night but he felt that they enhance his actual mood.

“You used her!” His voice echoed on the room’s walls, stifling the peaceful whizzing of instruments.

“I can explain,” the Time Lord defended himself.

“And how? We were following Lynn all evening but you were taking the lead, don’t deny it!”

“I don’t.”

“You didn’t have an idea about where that flute may be but Lynn, what a luck, led you to it. You just had to shepherd her.”

Andrew poured all his anger into his sentences; he felt that he was also betrayed by the Doctor. This was the most painful and most horrible one from all of the night’s physical and mental pain.

“I don’t say that what you’re saying is not right,” the target of his anger said quietly. “But won’t you let me tell you my side of the story? Maybe you’ll understand me that way.”

The boy huffed once and crossed his arms.

“I’m listening.”

“What I told you about Professor Stanforth is true, in a way. I really did meet him, more than once, negotiating about the… flute, as you called it? He didn’t want to pass it up; he could thank it so much during his career because this thing is a data storage.”

“That was made by the Trickster, I recognised it. Yannick planned the robot with the help of this?”

“Probably. When I heard about his death, I firstly went to the police; I wanted to find out where the Church carried his equipment. However, the flute wasn’t there.”

“This was when you decided that you’ll break into his lab,” Andrew nodded. “And why was I needed?”

The Doctor had a hard time, looking at his companion, saying it only to the metal floor.

“Because of Lynn.”

“What?” the boy snorted. “You knew that she’s coming?” He covered his face with his hands. “Of course, you left the door open because of her, she had to bust us. You have also seen Stanforth’s secret files before, haven’t you?”

The time traveller nodded.

Andrew didn’t need more words; the images clubbed together: Lynn recognised the second man on the recording, Egil, and led the Doctor to him. There was the container and the flute. The Doctor got what he wanted. There was only one question left.

“You knew that Stanforth was alive?”

“I wasn’t sure but recognised the case, it seemed more like stasis. So yes, I suspected. My theory is that he couldn’t finish the robot completely but the Church realised what he was planning. He faked his death. Vlodiff arranged everything at the police station; the robot’s body was destroyed quickly, masked as cremation and Egil smuggled the suspended-life functioning Professor into his flat. It would have been Vlodiff’s task to take Lynn there from the orphanage where she would have opened the container.”

“Stanforth tied his life to Lynn’s appearance?” Andrew was shocked. The scientist really did expect his niece so much.

“Vlodiff died, not long before I got to the police station. He reputedly fell out of his office. But I don’t think that he was a suicide.”

“I think it was Erudito.” Andrew thrilled as Egil, who was span out the window, came into his mind.

“He called himself that?” The Doctor scratched his chin. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Yes. He was an Assassin, like Giovanni Auditore. He was dressed the same way, used a similar hidden blade but in a more modern edition. And I fought him because you miscalculated your magnificent plan.”

“Right.” The Doctor swallowed. “But do you believe that I didn’t plan it like this?”

“I do. I understand that you want to stop the Nayads. But nothing authorises you to play with human lifes like this.” The boy was staring into the man’s eyes. “Do I still matter at all?”

The Time Lord looked at his young partner, shocked. Andrew waved; he didn’t want to hear anything now.

“We have to solve Lynn’s accommodation. She can’t live with us, I can’t explain it to Mum and they wouldn’t take in the local orphanage, either; not that I would let this happen to her. Could I call Stephanie?”

The Doctor acted without resistance, placing the TARDIS outside the Time Vortex with the push of a couple of switches. Andrew dialled and, as his sister picked the phone up, started talking immediately.

“Hi, Steph! Is Mum home yet?”

“No, not yet.” The voice of his sister seemed scared. “Why?”

“We’ll arrive shortly. Bye!” He put down the phone with that and turned to the Doctor. “Land in the living room! Maybe Agent Adams jumps in again.”

The Doctor acted; he stepped back into the Time Vortex to step out of it again after a moment. The image of the McAllistair living room appeared on the monitor.

Andrew hurried out immediately and waited impatiently for the Torchwood agent to appear in the house. He wasn’t disappointed: like after the Doctor’s morning arrival, the uniformed man appeared in the house within seconds. He took his task more seriously after his last mistake.

“Agent Adams,” the boy told him. “I would like to ask a favour.”

“What would it be?” The Agent fixed the strap of his bag, suspiciously looking the Doctor up and down who was standing in the TARDIS door.

“A girl came with us, orphan in her own world. She would like to live here. Could you paste her into the Earth databases somehow? Create her, so to speak? ‘Cause she doesn’t exist officially at the moment.”

“I think it’s a simple finger-work for Max.” Adams knitted his brows. “But what do you think, how will she fit in?”

“Easily. She’s human, just from the future.” Andrew saw that the Agent wants to speak but he outran the man. “She will know what she can’t talk about. I’ll make sure of that.”

Adams considered it. Maybe he thought it was harmless or was driven by guilt but he accepted Andrew’s request.

“Alright, we’ll solve it. And if any problem occurs, we can offer Retcon.”

“And where will she live?” the Doctor interrupted. “You didn’t figure that out yet.”

Andrew felt as if the man would mock him. However, Adams’ quick reaction saved him from replying.

“One of our nice friends came back from Brazil not long ago.”

The Doctor and Andrew looked at each other. Then the man shrugged.

“It’s worth a try.”

“I’ll tell you when we’re finished.” Adams waved farewell and vanished.

Andrew shook his head. Maybe he did something stupid; it wasn’t guaranteed that Agatha adopts Lynn, even for a short period of time. But the woman was the Doctor’s companion in another reality, so he hoped that she won’t turn her back on his request. He hurried back into the TARDIS with the Doctor and, while the man moved the ship to Agatha’s house, walked to Lynn’s room.

Everything was taken away from the girl; she lost her family and her home. But he’ll take care of giving a new home to her.

He knocked on the door.

Lynn opened the door for him straight away. She has already taken a bath; her blonde hair framed her face again, there was no sign of blood. The colour of her skin was healthier. An honest smile appeared on Andrew’s face.

“I have good news!”

 

_The Doctor has magnificent news,_

_His search was not unhelpful:_

_He has the cure, Andrew can be free,_

_He won’t have to worry about the Nayads on his trail._

_They just need a doctor, an exceptional butch_

_Who’s ready to break some very definite rules._

_The destination is Thadeus Elese’s clinic_

_But they couldn’t expect the doc’s horrible mystery._


	21. Doctor Mini - Green Eyes

My knees were trembling and my palm was wet as I was trying to keep the pistol on the target. The demonic figure louring in front of me was only laughing at me. His greenly flaming eyes turned to me scornfully while his body, made from clinging shadows, was rippling, swirling and almost filled my vision. An up-curving, bright gap opened on his dark face: a devilish grin.

“Let’s see who’s quicker!” He rattled on a hellish voice.

I tried to shoot first, I already did so many times but my fingers froze again this time, they didn’t obey me. The grinning demon, as if he would like to mock me, lifted his own weapon with an agonising slowness. Meanwhile the gun drew its orbit, I fought against stiffness with all of my strength but my thumb didn’t move a millimetre; I couldn’t pull the trigger.

Maybe the monster got bored of my flurry or the game was juiceless for him. Fire lashed out from the throat of his weapon which was accompanied by the sound of a thunder.

This thunder brought my dream to an end.

 

I know all of this from the inside out, I dreamt about this so many times. As that demon covers everything from me, as I’m alone opposite him, every feeling of it stays with me even after I wake up. I was screaming on the first days, at least Agatha said so. She probably didn’t lie. She came up to me those times, brought a mug of tea and stayed with me until I calmed down. Luckily I didn’t scream anymore.

Oh, really, I didn’t write the date: August 8th, 2013. It’s still hard to believe, isn’t it? Two hundred years back in time.

I could say that I wasn’t surprised but I’d lie. Of course, I already had a suspicion that there’s some kind of trickery is going on here after seeing the Doctor’s ‘bigger on the inside’ telephone box but I wouldn’t have guessed this. Sorry for not taking you out this far; I didn’t have the strength to go near the sack, I hope you understand. But I’ll sum everything up now.

So, it was three weeks ago that Agatha, who I mentioned before, adopted me. Her name is Agatha Holmes and she’s an archaeologist. Her house is small but very homey and maybe the expression ‘ordered chaos’ would describe it. I feel well here but I got used to larger space at home and a little bigger tidiness. But this should be my smallest problem. I was given the guestroom on the first floor; it wasn’t used a lot before me. A bed, a wardrobe, two bedside cabinets; I got only this. As many stuff I had that time was enough, especially for the thing I did: I was lying on the bed, watching the ceiling.

I can now state that the ceiling is boring. Agatha was with me a lot, just like Andrew. He was here almost every day; he lives a couple of streets away from us. He’s very nice to me; he always waits until I want to chat and he doesn’t force anything. He also kept his promise and told me what I got involved in.

So, like I said, time travel. The Doctor is a time traveller and is not human but the member of the Time Lords, an ancient species. Andrew met him last year, in 2012 (I tell you: it’s complicated). As it was found out he became the target of the Nayads, another alien race, who want to see him dead. The Doctor tries to help him.

Andrew talked a lot about his adventures: he’s been on more than one alien planets, was kidnapped twice, met aliens and a secret agent guards his house. Under any other circumstances, this would sound pretty cool but there aren’t any other circumstances. His life is in danger. He said that he also had nightmares after his first adventure. It seems this is the Doctor’s gift to his partners: nightmares and demons.

Imagine, Agatha was also the Doctor’s partner, although not here but in a parallel reality but then she got the memories of her other version through a crystal skull. Madness after madness!

But as much as it was at first, the situation seemed more and more natural later somehow. Andrew and Agatha helped me a lot. We were talking; I was only listening at the beginning then I joined. We were going to London (this is the city where I live now) to know it. I got clothes not to wear Agatha’s old stuff. They did everything to make me feel good after everything.

And I feel good. I’m fine at the moment.

Talks, walks, getting to know the world; my days were spent like this. Electricity is normal here! We are far from the Church’s existence, not to mention it gaining power. Of course, I can’t talk about these, Andrew’s secret agent friend accompanied his little protégé once and gave me a presentation about what I can say a word about: like the happenings and scientific inventions of the next two hundred years, et cetera. He offered a medicine that could make me forget everything but I didn’t want to let go of my memories, I am who I am from those; Lynn Grayshel who is writing her diary now.

This is how we get to this day.

After my demon woke me, I was just staring out my window; it was dawn, the Sun was coming up. I wanted to get free from this nightmare but I don’t think this will happen in the near future. I got changed after a short staring and jogged down to the kitchen. The kitchen is not large, either: a table with three chairs, two kitchen cupboards, a microwave oven (we didn’t have anything like this) and a dishwasher. Agatha was already up but not in ‘marching order’, as she called it. There are a couple of similar expressions like this that are used by the locals and seem weird to me. Agatha was still wearing her pyjamas; her shoulder-length brown hair was dishevelled and messy. She heard that I’m approaching and greeted me, smiling.

“Good morning, Sis!” Then she yawned. “You couldn’t sleep again?”

“Ah, it’s nothing!” I waved and lied at the same time. “The Sun shone through the window.”

“I would suggest blinds.” She winked at me. “French toast?”

I nodded.

French toast, to Agatha, meant that she buttered a slice of bread, placed cold cuts and grated cheese on it, put it into the micro (this is the nickname of the microwave oven) and heated it until the cheese melted. And voilà! French toast is done!

While I was eating, Agatha didn’t stop for a moment: she turned into her room to come back fully dressed then to the bathroom for a comb. She combed her hair in front of the hall’s mirror.

“Where are you going?” I asked between two bites.

“To the British Museum. We’re planning an exhibition. After Bernard’s excavation closed without success and I stay unemployed temporarily, they got me to show the visitors around.” She reached into the pocket of her favourite overcoat and took out a brochure. “I want to see you on the opening!” She put it down in front of me.

I looked over the notebook, ‘Treasures of Italia’, this was its title. I was still interested in history; it didn’t seem something I want to miss. There weren’t a lot of museums at home; a few of the antiquities could only be found in the Church’s temples.

“Could Andrew also come?”

Maybe Agatha was surprised by that this was my first question. She started to smile mysteriously then nodded.

“Of course, don’t leave him at home!” She vanished again in the bathroom, wearing a bun when she got back. She had already put on her beige overcoat and was looking for the door keys. “Will he come over today?”

“Yes.”

“Then have fun!” She winked once more then stepped out the entrance.

A sudden calmness fell onto the house. Agatha was twirling (I think they say this); she was glowing as if the energy raging in her would have made its effect felt. I loved her, my new ‘big sister’ but this peace was sometimes needed.

When it was enough of the peace, I washed my plate, dried it and put it back to its place. There weren’t any space to just leave it on the table. I had a lot of time until Andrew arrived; he wasn’t famous for getting up early. I looked into Agatha’s room; I got her permission to go in there anytime, and searched her book-shelves. She was keeping a lot of books there, although she had the least from the scientific ones that had details of her job. She could be a big bookworm; she was reading a lot of adventure stories. For example, she had The Song of Ice and Fire series, although not all of them, only because they weren’t written yet. Another weirdness: a bunch of books that I knew are very far away for being published because their authors weren’t even born yet.

Like Mum’s book. The History of Torchwood. I’ve never opened it; it was almost saint to me and I barely dare to touch it. Maybe I won’t read it after this. It came from the future.

Neither of the books caught me at last; this was when I decided that I’ll find you. I had some things to write, as you can see. I admit that I missed you. I looked at my writings from earlier… how large a turn my life did! But, as I already mentioned, I don’t believe in unbelievable anymore.

Oops, someone rang the bell.

 

I’m here again.

It was Andrew.

Today, we went to London again: he took me to a movie theatre or cinema, if you like, to see The Wolverine. But it’s not an animal, as I waited, but a guy with metal claws in his hand. Andrew was enjoying it and I couldn’t put it anywhere for now. The cinema was an enormous dark room with a bunch of chairs and a large linen, onto which a film was projected; you know, the one that’s on the telly but bigger and louder.

Oh, you can’t know ‘cause I didn’t talk about TV or the Internet. I’ll tell you later, this isn’t the priority now. The point is that after the film, Andrew walked me back to Agatha’s house but we saw that someone was standing in front of the door. She probably rang the bell and, because no one was at home, the door wasn’t opened. Simple logic.

It could be seen from her posture that she’s a bit confused. Approaching, we saw that it was about a woman: she was young, wore a black leather jacket and a red skirt and her brown hair was let down. Her eyes seemed implausibly large as she was looking around, helpless. When we got in front of the house, she noticed us at last. Moreover, Andrew recognised her.

“Andrew?” She asked.

“Clara!” My ‘company’ greeted back. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to Miss... Agatha Holmes.” She read the name from a slip of paper. “Do you know her? Does she live here eventually?”

“Yes.” Andrew was nodding. “But don’t say Miss to her, she doesn’t like it.”

That’s right, I approved inside, Agatha can be very very upset when someone calls her Miss or Ma’am. Make this mistake once and you’ll never want to do so again!

“Why are you looking for her?”

“I’m here to represent Coal Hill School. Principal Chesterton said that there’s a student here who, maybe, would like to learn there and I came to convince her. I started there not long ago so I’m the messenger, you know how it is.”

Andrew looked at me in this moment, as if he would have noticed now that I’m there as well.

“You signed up there?”

“What d’you think?” I put my hand on my hip. “It was surely Agatha.”

I learnt later that Agatha didn’t sign up in my name, either but I was chatting in this belief. It didn’t come to my mind until that second that I’ll have to go to school but maybe I could fit more easily, especially if the chance fell into my lap.

“Oh, so it’s you?” The woman named Clara looked at me now, reaching her hand towards me. “I’m Clara Oswald.”

“Lynn Grayshel.” I returned the handshake. “Shall we continue inside?”

Later, we were sitting around the table, all three of us. Miss Oswald first looked for a few adverts from the pockets of her jacket then told me how well-respected school Coal Hill was reckoned. I was always taught by Uncle Yannick; you know I’ve never been in school before. But it seems, not nuns are teaching here.

“I’ve heard that you’re good at scientific subjects.” Miss Oswald was smiling at me. “We put emphasis on that as well.”

She was an English teacher herself, by the way. Coal Hill could be a good school, according to what was said, but I had doubts. I didn’t even spend a month in the school-flouted orphanage but that was more than enough.

“Are they hitting the students there as well?” I inquired.

“What sort of school were you the student of?” Miss Oswald was thrown by the question.

“A canonical one,” I replied.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like that here.” Andrew hurried to calm me. “It isn’t a tradition in our time at all. She’s from the future,” he explained to the teacher.

I couldn’t say a word in dismay. How was Andrew able to say this? The rules of ‘not talking about the future’ applies only to me? Of course, I calmed down when he explained that Miss Oswald is also one of the Doctor’s acquaintances, furthermore, his current ‘permanent’ companion.

How little this London could be, how many people were picked up by the Doctor? Why is he obsessed with this town this much? He wouldn’t have succeeded in my time; London existed only on maps. The British Isles had inhabitants only on their northern parts, the rest was lifeless.

After this, Miss Oswald looked at me with a renewed interest.

“You came from the future? Cool!” She said.

She assured me that she helps me fit in and if I have any kind of problem or question anytime, I can turn to her bravely. I didn’t know how to feel about a new patron. She was better than the grim secret agent, that’s for sure.

It was weird that there’s a common this in all these different people that is the Doctor. I wonder whether Miss Oswald also had nightmares.

We were talking a little bit more, mostly about school, and then Miss Oswald shook my hand.

“It was nice meeting you! Don’t forget to tell your tutor!”

With that, she stepped through the door and I stayed here with my questions.

“Are you okay?” Andrew looked at me, worried. He was so cute when he worried.

“Of course, but it was so sudden. It didn’t come to my mind after this that I’ll have to go to school.”

“Well, it’s like this on this Earth. You also could go to South Hampstead where I’m studying. I could bring some brochures as well.” He pointed at the stack of papers that Miss Oswald left behind.

“Thanks! But we’ll discuss it with Agatha. You heard Miss Oswald, Agatha’s my ‘tutor’.”

I didn’t like this expression. When she was my ‘new sister’, it was good but I couldn’t refer to her as a tutor. Uncle Yannick was my tutor. Agatha was only the kind woman who took me in.

Andrew could see that I’m churning inside because he sat next to me. I suddenly had the urge to hug him just like on the night in Egil’s house, but that feeling went away. I don’t know why. But the worrying eyes stayed there, those beautiful, worrying, green eyes.

And then, there, I understood something; at least I felt that I touched a spot.

My life is now defined by two pairs of green eyes. One of them is flaming, scorches and comes back to me every night to remind me of that I wasn’t brave enough when I had to be. And the other is glinting worryingly but tells me that it won’t leave me alone. I’m not alone because it will always be with me. He will never tell me, literally; it can also turn out that I was wrong. But now I feel, in the deepest part of my soul, that this promise is in the air, unspeakably.

And I can’t be grateful enough for that!


	22. The Last Space Station, Part One

A warm summer Sun shone down at London and the abrupt weather was used out by a lot of people. They pestered the streets, the outdoor cafés, the parks, the beaches like ants. They enjoyed the warm breeze and the opportunities that the English capital could offer them and, although many were attracted by the oblivious entertainment, a lot of them decided that they would dive into the wonders of the human culture.

The crowd was continuously flowing on the stairs of the British Museum. The tall top of the majestic building were held by thick pillars and the Union Jack was blazing proudly in the wind. The carvings of the tympana looked down at the newcomers, puffed-up with pride because they lived on the largest museum in the world which is presenting the human history for the people. At the base of the pillars, paperboards advertised the visitable exhibitions with the newest among them: ‘The treasures of Italia’ are travelling around the world and now visited the British Isles.

Andrew was also present in the crowd; he tried not to get in someone’s way, not wanting to lose sight of Lynn at the same time. The girl was still nervous in the world and didn’t feel well in large crowds; she liked to stay near acquaintances.

This was why his heart skipped a beat when he suddenly couldn’t see her anywhere.

He turned around, panicking; a couple of people slipped past him but not everybody was on guard. Someone didn’t notice the suddenly stopping boy and ran into him.

Andrew’s heel bumped into the step and fell backwards. The other participant of the crash, a wondering-faced blond boy, stuttered an apology while helping him up. The crowd adapted, opening a little gap between them. The next mutual apology was disturbed by a woman’s urgent voice.

“Luke, come on! The exhibition’s this way!”

“I’m coming, Mum!” The lad rolled his eyes then looked at Andrew. “Sorry again!” With that, he vanished in the billow.

Andrew threw a confused look after him then continued to search for Lynn. His gaze was jumping from face to face while being careful of not to bump into someone else again. Then he noticed the straw-blonde tonsure but only at the entrance door. He forced his way through the crowd awkwardly but caught up with the girl inside the building who was kept up by the small suited sign-in woman. Lynn was already showing up the tickets got from Agatha when Andrew finally joined her. The girl didn’t even notice that they didn’t arrive to the woman together.

Andrew, hiding his embarrassment, smiled widely and stated inside him that maybe he worried a bit too much about it. While they were looking for a place in the room where Agatha and her colleagues installed the exhibition, the boy was fixing his more elegant than usual attire; he was trying to imperceptibly push his shirt back behind his belt.

The newcomers’ shoes were knocking on the exhibition room’s shiny floor tiles while they tried to settle down around the improvised amphitheatre in the centre. Though Andrew and Lynn tried to stay in the first rows, they were pushed backwards as more and more visitors stepped into the room. The general noise was louder and louder: friends were talking, others were talking on the phone and there was someone who started chatting with the security guard.

Then the cacophony quietened gradually when Agatha stepped into the room, accompanied by two men, and the trio took their place in the middle. And the security guard pulled the big gate in to stifle the noise coming from outside. Agatha, instead of her usual beige overcoat, wore a more sophisticated coat, the leg of her ducks swayed gently after every step and she twisted a silk scarf around her neck. It could be seen that she feels uncomfortable; as an archaeologist, she liked what she wore on the field much better. Her outfit was completed by an alluring false smile.

She turned on the microphone on the collar on her coat with one move.

“I welcome our dear guests in the name of the British Museum on the opening of our newest traveling exhibition!” Her voice could be heard in every corner of the room, thanks to the speakers, placed in a circle. “We would like to thank Mr Edward Krafton that he gave free run of his weapon collection to the museum until the end of the exhibition,” the man on her right nodded, “also Mr William Miles enriching the exhibition’s Tuscan collection with his donation. The ‘Treasures of Italia’ is...”

Andrew wasn’t listening to Agatha’s speech; he was trying to find the aforementioned collections with his eyes. The remained relics and valuables of a lot of famous Italian families could be observed behind the thick-glass cabinets: bowls, cutlery, chests, and clothing. Of course, there were more interesting things there than the aforementioned weapon collection; a few swords or spears seemed more recent. The walls were decorated by the paintings and tondos of Italian artists. For his surprise, he noticed something familiar among the Tuscan collection: there were some things next to the objects of the Medici family on which an uncrossed letter ‘A’ was put. He stifled a smile inside him as the two white-hooded warriors came to his mind, the Auditore brothers. When he got back from Rome, the first thing he did was to look up the Auditores. He didn’t get to know that much; he only found that they were the Medicis’ close customers, bankers. The visitors of the museum wouldn’t believe that he knows historian figures like them, even if only cursorily.

The remembrance was disturbed by a movement in the crowd. He looked there and a fully black-clothed black-haired woman slipped through elegantly between the people. She appeared in front of the shocked Agatha then, putting her index finger in front of her mouth, signalled that she would ask for silence.

“I would take the word if I may, thank you!” She faced the visitors.

Andrew now saw that a large part of her face is covered by a black visor that seemed too modern to come from the 21st century.

“Thank you for this interesting presentation!” It was as if her voice would have been strengthened artificially. “But now my friends would like to get some attention.”

As she said this, on some spots in the visitors’ crowd helmeted heads appeared; every one of them had a skull-like figure painted on it which had redly flashing eye sockets. A wave of anxiety ran through the people, a lot of them were reaching for their mobiles. The movements immediately stopped when the helmeted lifted their implausibly modern rifles towards the sky.

“I would like you to stay quiet,” the woman continued while one of the armed started towards her. “And if it’s possible, don’t try to inform any law enforcement.” She sent a snarky smile towards the security guard who now noticed that his walkie-talkie is missing.

The helmeted arrived to the woman, his thick boots were almost sweeping then he came to a halt, bestriding, gripping his rifle with both hands and not whiffling at all. He wore a black coat which wasn’t zipped up so the contours of his bulletproof vest could be seen under it.

“I am Teng Korak,” he said it so proudly, as if everyone would know this name. “I’m glad you came here today. I would have a suggestion: let’s stay close to the ground. What do you say?”

The crowd didn’t move; everyone was watching the armed men uncomprehendingly but with fear in their eyes.

“He said, down to the floor!” The woman repeated and the people moved at last.

Andrew started to pull Lynn down earlier so they were the first to squat down. As the museum’s visitors huddled up, the skull-helmeted guys emerged from the crowd. There could be ten of them. As they were turning with their weapons from the left to the right, Andrew was sure that they would fire between them without a thought.

The woman meanwhile went through the cabinet and was looking over them as if she would be on a shopping tour in the supermarket. Agatha, who was kneeling with the two supporters of the exhibition, was watching what she’s doing with gritted teeth; Andrew felt that she won’t stifle her emotions for long. And how right he was!

“What the hell do you want?” She shouted at the visored woman.

However, she just signed the head-armed, hitting her left arm with her right hand.

“Teng, would you?”

The helmeted lifted his weapon without a word in a moment and pulled the trigger a couple of times. A high-pitched screaming sound filled the room while green laser beams shot out from the muzzle. Agatha twitched in fright but the target wasn’t her. The rifle pointing upwards was only a warning. The archaeologist understood the hint, she didn’t speak again. The crowd also decided not to risk getting hit by one of the green beams.

Andrew was wondering whether he could imperceptibly take out the mobile he got from the Doctor. Then he looked at Lynn and abandoned the idea. It was too dangerous; if they spot what he’s up to, maybe they won’t threaten the visitors. He had only one hope: the woman does what she wants then they leave the people alone.

The spokesman of the armed stopped in front of a huge vase at last which also had the Auditores’ sign on it and he was hitting its side like someone who’s choosing a watermelon in the market. He was humming contentedly then turned it onto the side of the vase and stepped on it; the vase’s side broke, clanking. The woman was searching through the pieces. Agatha groaned, abhorred.

In this moment, the space twisted on the place between the armed named Teng Korak and the visitors.

Andrew first thought that his eyes played him false. On the place of the special distortion was standing agent Adams, his back to them. He aimed his long-barrelled rifle straight at the woman, not caring about the skull-helmeted.

“Don’t move!” The well-known voice beamed. “Put down everything!”

“And if I don’t?” The woman asked while standing up. She hid both her hands behind her back.

“What d’you think?” Adams nodded towards the rifle with his head.

“Don’t you see that we outnumber you?”

“I don’t care,” the Agent murmured, his finger moving on the trigger.

Time slowed down for Andrew. He couldn’t believe that Adams would be able to risk the lives of the people in the room to avert a burglary. He was watching when the armed men will react to the presence of the Torchwood agent. But not one of them moved. Adams was still standing, undisturbed, with the woman in front of him, neither of them even twitching. This was when the boy started to think that not his senses cheated on him but time really stopped.

He could still move himself. Looking at his right, he say Lynn’s tightened eyes and her face which froze into the mask of fear. He risked standing up. He succeeded with no problems. He looked around but no one really moved.

His brain was working quickly as he was trying to find out what happened, what he knew that would be able to do something like this. The whole room froze in time. Maybe a time lock? Someone locked the museum down with it? If yes, then why and why did he stay out of its effect? Would the Nayad signal source in his head make him immune? He couldn’t work this out so he gave up trying; instead he has to focus his energies on solving the situation, seeing that only he, alone, was able to do so.

“Don’t be afraid, Andrew!” A voice sounded which filled the room.

Andrew twitched when he heard the voice that seemed unfamiliar at first, then he realised that, in the face of every distorting sound, he hears the Doctor.

“Doctor, is that you?” He shouted.

“Yes, it is.” The answer came. “You don’t have to yell, I can hear you perfectly. Listen, maybe you’re frightened but don’t have to be scared; we’ll lift you and agent Adams out in a moment.”

“Lift out? And who are we?”

“I’ll tell you that as well. I’ll tell you everything. But now do something for me: go to Adams and stay next to him! The place where you land will be surprising; I don’t want him to start to fire! I’ll tell you everything,” the Doctor’s voice promised once more.

Andrew did as the Time Lord asked. He by-passed everybody, though he left Lynn with a sore heart; it was bad to see her being dread. Although he didn’t understand what’s going on exactly, he stopped by the agent’s side. He looked around, not knowing what to expect, what’s next.

“I’m here,” he said into the frozen world when nothing happened.

Something grabbed him in the next moment, starting to pull him. He felt like that his sole is frozen to the floor and he himself will be torn apart because of the force if it continues to pull him. However, the invisible palm didn’t let go. It expelled the air from his lungs; he started to feel dizzy and was close to faint when a blinding brightness swallowed him.

 

Andrew came to himself when he heard the noise of a gun being fired.

He found himself on a place which couldn’t be named as real in any way: his vision was filled with an infinite whiteness. There weren’t any evident things near him; everything was covered in white like when only blackness can be seen in a very dark room. It was the same, just with white. However, it wasn’t really because he could see himself and agent Adams who dropped his still smoking rifle uncomprehendingly.

“What’s going on?” He asked, grumbling.

The sound of a snap hit their ears. As they turned, the Doctor stood behind them, rubbing his palms.

“Welcome to the Gallery!” He said, smiling and opened his arms widely. “Our host, Annxira, will join us soon.”

“Where are we, Doctor?” Andrew enquired. “What happened?”

“Like I said, in the Gallery. Annxira lifted you out of time.”

“Is this possible?” Adams stared, marvelling while putting his weapon on his shoulder.

“It just happened, didn’t it? Sorry, agent Adams, for you having to come with us!”

“I was in control of the situation,” the Torchwood agent mumbled.

“And the armed men?” Andrew threw at him accusingly.

“There weren’t any. Only holograms.”

“What do you mean?” The boy was taken aback.

“First of all, they weren’t speaking on a human language,” Adams started to list, “of course, they could have been alien criminals. Secondly, all of them looked the same: same height, same poise; this is almost impossible. I thought that they were clones but the third evidence convinced me that I don’t have to be afraid of them: when their leader fired into the air, the laser didn’t leave a burn on the ceiling. All of it was a well-built trick, that woman was the only real threat in that room.”

The Doctor cleared his throat; he wanted to take back the word.

“The agent is right, Andrew,” he turned to the boy. “You saw only holograms; to be exact, you saw the hologram of Teng Korak, a Zhak terrorist.”

“And why couldn’t I shoot the woman?” Adams was fussing further petulantly.

“That woman is Portia Mallony.” The Time Lord looked at Andrew as if the name should have meant something to him.

But the boy didn’t take the hint.

“And who is she?”

“I told you about her.” The Doctor shook his head disappointedly. “She is a relatively old acquaintance of mine. The word ‘thief’ would describe her the best but she wouldn’t call herself that way. She was once shipwrecked on Earth and I tried to rear her to a good life; while I was repairing her ship, I commended her to the Banks family as a governess. But, of course, blood is thicker than water, as they say...”

“Could you jump to the point?” Andrew interrupted.

The Doctor snorted angrily because he couldn’t finish his tale.

“If you need the short version, here it is: she stole the Flute now that will get to Yannick Stanforth eventually.”

At last, the boy understood what the time traveller wanted to say. A question formed in him and although he knew that the answer will be ‘no’, he felt that he has to ask.

“And if we stop her? Then we could get the Flute that way as well. Stanforth will never get the infos needed to build the robot, he won’t be killed because of it and Lynn would have a family.”

He felt guilt because what he said filled him with sadness. ‘And Lynn wouldn’t live with us,’ he added inside.

“They didn’t have this opportunity,” the Doctor said. “With that, I would have twisted my own timeline ‘cause I was looking for the Professor because of the Flute. I don’t think that I have to explain what paradox I would have created with that.”

Another guilt-wave hit him because the answer made him feel nice deep inside.

“And why am I still here?” Adams grunted, “I won’t shoot, fine, but can I go back? Adventuring is not my thing.”

“If you would stay for a bit more words,” an unfamiliar voice sounded.

If was as if the whiteness itself would have thickened; a twisting vortex appeared in the infinity and took the shape of a humanoid. The evolving alien creature’s long robe just varied from white; from different angles, it seemed that his similarly pale head would just hang in the air. His four eyes were blinking separately and his split nostrils shook with every breath he took. He started towards them but he was almost gliding in the air like a strange ghost. When the creature arrived in front of them, he inclined his head as a greeting.

“I am Annxira, the Curator of the Gallery. Did the Doctor tell you why you are here?”

“No, I didn’t get that far,” the Doctor said through gritted teeth.

“I see,” Annxira nodded impassively. “I assume you wish to do so.”

The Doctor was nodding furiously.

“So be it!” the alien agreed. “Explain your partner the reason and effect of the events; I will talk to Robert Adams until you are finished.”

The agent uncomprehendingly let the alien to close in on him and lead him away from the time traveller duo. And the Doctor snatched the opportunity to start to explain once more.

“Well, Andrew, I made you come here because, with Annxira’s help, I accessed, or rather, he accessed, the Flute’s complete file. And we have the cure, the key of your recovery.”

The boy felt that his breath catches. He can recover? The Nayad signals will be gone from his head; there will be no more dangers? This was wonderful news! However, there was something in the Doctor’s tone that signalled that it won’t be this easy.

“Where’s the trap?” he asked carefully.

“There’s no trap,” the Doctor opened his arms. “Only a small hitch: I’m not doctor enough to do what has to be done. Don’t worry!” he anticipated the question of his partner. “We’ve already found the appropriate neurologist. His name is Dr Thadeus Elese; he has a very good reputation in his own time. Annxira will send you to him, as” he squinted towards the Torchwood agent, “he finishes with agent Adams.”

“What do you mean by sending me?”

“You can’t just come in here, into the Gallery; you can only arrive with Annxira’s invitation or leave with his permission. The TARDIS is not here.”

“And who is he anyway? Not to mention how big of a power he has...”

“He’s the Curator of the Gallery, as he said. He’s the silent Observer of the known Universe. The Keeper of the rarities of time.” The Doctor sighed. “A lot of titles could be hung on him but he’s a simple collector in the depth of his heart: with his power, he is able to make time-moment copies of all of the moments of the Universe. Imagine, he has the Big Bang in an aquarium! You once asked how Jack Harkness will become the Face of Boe; he knows!” The man couldn’t hide his childlike enthusiasm.

“Are you finished, Doctor?” the Curator asked.

The Time Lord quickly hid his grin and forced seriousness onto his face.

“Yes.”

“Do you wish to bid farewell to Robert Adams?”

Andrew nodded.

“So be it!” The alien waved again and stepped back.

“What did he want?” the boy whispered to the agent.

“I got a business card from him,” Adams said uncomprehendingly, with lifted brows. “He would buy my parents’ Zhitter pistols, he states that there aren’t any in his collection. It’s not as if I’d understand any of this.” He turned around.

“You don’t have to anymore,” the Doctor told him, “you’ll go back to Earth. Don’t forget, leave Portia alone; it’s necessary to let her escape with the Flute.”

Adams nodded dutifully.

“You won’t arrive to the spot you’ve been lifted from,” the Time Lord continued to explain. “Just to be on the safe side. But, I think, you can find your way home.”

The agent sighed tiredly but nodded again with larger resignation this time.

“We’re finished,” the Doctor exclaimed.

Annxira suddenly appeared next to them, waved with an inturned palm and Adams vanished with a flash. Andrew recoiled from the sudden event.

“Calm down,” the time traveller calmed him, “it goes this way here.”

“Follow me!” the Curator called his guests after him.

Andrew was sure that they are going somewhere but the whiteness didn’t change around them, no matter how much they’ve walked. However, the more they went, the more Andrew got used to the strange environment; it reminded him more of a foggy city now. The whiteness rather seemed a world of dark clouds now; he thought he saw silhouettes around him, maybe display cases and exhibition racks. He sighted figures sometimes; they could have been humans as they stood behind a canvas, expanded. It made him shiver.

“We have arrived,” Annxira announced.

As he said this, the fog started to clear around them. While it dissipated, Andrew heard a squelchy clatter from the depth of the clouds and it was mixed with the sound of scratching. The boy was looking for the source of the noise, curious and a little shocked. When the nebula vanished completely, Andrew noticed, flabbergasted, what gave the noises.

On a stout, white scaffold a glass cylinder was resting, the clattering was coming from its inside: a crummy, scaly giant snail was scratching the cylinder’s side with its stodgy front paws, its eye stalks staring at the boy and saliva pouring onto the bottom of the case. Andrew’s left leg suddenly started to hurt.

“This is...” he tried to press the words out of him.

“Yes, the Pluvian chimera.” The Doctor nodded. “I told you that Annxira is collecting but he’s glad more than anything when he can have something in original. This here,” he knocked on the glass and the already mature Theron grunted, “is the one I gave him; I didn’t need it anyway. In exchange, Annxira helped me to get information about the Nayads: where they hustle now, how their unique signals can be caught, these whatnots. Of course, it isn’t important now.” He hit the glass box.

Andrew, in the man’s trail, circled the rack; the Theron turning after him, grunting. The room was full of similar cases. In one of them, which was taller than a man, there was a winged stone statue, put together from visible pieces: the Weeping Angel that served the Nayads until it was blown up. On another rack, the shot armour of a Cybersilurian paraded. The head of a one-eyed alien creature hung from a pole in a glass box.

People were also standing next to the display cabinets, like lifelike wax puppets. Andrew first thought that his eyes are playing him false, he saw them moving; but he didn’t imagine it: every figure was shaking and vibrating; they were the time-moment copies that the Doctor mentioned; they lived through one nano-minute again and again. Andrew was rushed by memories as he passed in front of the people of his earlier adventures: Kara’Osinn-swald, the Lizard girl, Eugene Jackson, the American Private, Alea from the Deathrace and many more. It was a grim feeling.

He wanted to close his eyes by choice, not to see anything when the Doctor stopped him. Their target was a two-winged cupboard. When the Time Lord opened its door, Andrew could see more relics: these were also shaking so they were copies as well. The Doctor took the only original out: the Flute.

“I promised Annxira that he can keep this after we cured you.”

“And I expect that you keep your promise, Doctor.” The alien collector appeared behind them.

“Of course, of course.” The Doctor waved then noticed the state of his partner. “Are you alright, Andrew?”

“No, I’m not,” the boy moaned. “This is too much for me, at one go.”

The Doctor nodded towards Annxira and the alien circled with his hand once. Fog fell onto the room once again.

“Better?” the time traveller asked with a worried expression.

“Better,” Andrew sighed. “What is this place?”

“The Andrew McAllistair room. Everything is connected to you. You should see how large mine is! Let’s say, I haven’t seen mine but I can imagine. It’s surely big.” The man winked at the Curator. “I didn’t suspect that it will run you down this much.”

“My room?” Andrew got stuck at this information.

“Yes. Everybody has a place in the Gallery, just like in the Universe.”

“Where can all these rooms fit in?”

“In a pocket universe, of course.” The Doctor started to smile.

“Now, that you are finished with this as well, you may leave,” Annxira told them without any emotions.

The Doctor nodded towards the alien, taking note of that it’s time to act.

“Are you ready, Andrew?” He gripped his partner’s shoulder.

The boy just nodded silently.

The Time Lord lifted the Flute and shouted.

“We’ll be back! Geronimo!”

At Annxira’s one wave, the pair disappeared and he stayed alone in the endless whiteness.

 

The dizziness and nausea vanished within moments, just like last time, so Andrew could observe his new environment with a clear head. They arrived onto a spacious corridor whose grey, ribbed steel walls were painted with differently coloured lines, probably showing directions, but the wavy captions next to them stayed illegible. Without the TARDIS, the titles didn’t adapt to Andrew’s eyes. Luckily, he still has his translation disk so he’ll be able to understand speech. He didn’t want to live through something like the event on New Earth ever again.

Next to him, the Doctor hid the Flute into the inside pocket of his jacket while grimacing and gawping.

“Are only my ears ring?”

“No.” Andrew now noticed the faraway sound. “Something really is screaming.”

Two sounds, a deeper and higher bell rotated; it didn’t take a lot of time for the duo to realise that they are hearing alarms. It was even clearer when an automatic female voice joined the tirade.

“Incursion in Ring Three! Incursion in Ring Three!”

“Incursion?” Andrew asked, scared.

The Doctor turned around his axle to survey their surroundings, meanwhile slatting with his screwdriver.

“I think we are the intruders.” He grew serious as he read down the results of the sonic. “According to the signs, this is Ring Three and the lift is that way.” He pointed behind his back with his thumb. “What do you think, should we greet the welcoming committee?” he started to smile again.

Andrew didn’t think anything about the man’s suggestion but didn’t disagree with him, either. It was clear that as a welcoming committee, he’s waiting for some kind of security group. The boy started in the Doctor’s tail, where the Time Lord showed the elevator.

As they went through the brittle, bent corridor, it made Andrew shiver. Everything seemed lifeless; he couldn’t hear anything else but the alarm. The ribbed walls were dull and weren’t broken by windows to draw a conclusion about where the duo might be. The lift meant that they could be in a tall building, maybe on its third floor and that’s what the alarm referred to as ring. The knock of their shoes echoed on the empty corridor.

Soon, another banging joined into this knocking; hurried footsteps approached them. The Doctor put his hand to the right, signalling Andrew to stop.

“Here comes the welcoming committee.”

However, the man was also surprised when this ‘welcoming committee’ could be seen at the end of the corridor’s arch: only one woman was going towards them.

She wore a dark blue coverall, her black hair was short but left longer on the right and strange figures were drawn around one of her eyes with black paint. A full gun holder hung from her hip and she held a rifle in her hand. Her asymmetric appearance was paired with cold beauty. She seemed elegant and dangerous at the same time.

She stopped in front of the duo firmly, aiming her weapon at them immediately.

“Identify yourselves!”

“I’m the Doctor and he’s my partner, Andrew,” the Time Lord introduced themselves. “We came to Dr Thadeus Elese. We need medical help.”

“How did you get here?” the next question sounded.

“That’s a little complicated...” The Doctor shook his head. “But as we meet the doctor, I’ll explain everything. Is that alright?”

“What do you say?” The question clearly wasn’t addressed to them but the woman didn’t even lower her gun a millimetre.

After a couple of moments, she finally put her rifle away but her eyes were watching the two newcomers with the same suspicion.

“He said you could meet. But I have to search you over at first; protective measures, you know. If you resist, I can still shoot you.” She nodded towards the ceiling. “Elese is watching your every move through the cameras, don’t try anything.”

“We let you, of course,” the Doctor spraddled, opening his arms. “Could we know your name?” he enquired while the woman started to grope them.

“It doesn’t matter that much but if you’ll be happier from that… I’m Noanna Monger,” the woman introduced herself while examining Andrew.

Andrew felt very uncomfortable as the armed woman groped his arms, legs, body and she even dug into his hair. She didn’t find anything at last because she huffed and spurt them on. She seemingly didn’t like newcomers, throwing sharp looks especially towards the Doctor.

She led them to the elevator. It was round but considerably wide; a stretcher could easily fit in ti. They nestled comfortably and the machinery started, the soft humming of its invisible engines filled the box. Its passengers waited the end of the short ride without a word.

As the lift’s doors opened and the security officer let the time adventurers out, they found themselves on a similar corridor which they arrived from. It could have emerged in Andrew that they didn’t even move from there. The same windowless grey corridor but the lines on the walls were painted with different colours. While walking in Monger’s trail, the boy pressed closer to the Doctor.

“Where are we?” he whispered.

“At Elese’s private clinic, if I’m right.” The Doctor scratched his chin. “But it’s surprisingly quiet, I miss the patients. I don’t know this more precisely.”

“How do you not know this? You said you found this guy.”

“Yes but only him. I don’t know where Annxira left us on his timeline. But listen,” he hit the floor with his sole a couple of times, loudly, “gravity is lifted artificially to the Earth’s gravity level so we could probably be on a moon.”

“This’s no moon it’s a space station,” the security officer told them above her shoulder. She had exceptionally good hearing.

“Space station? Could be.” The Time Lord left it at that.

“And how did you get here, if you don’t even know where you are?” the woman was inquiring further; she seemingly had a hard time to believe this.

“Long story.”

“It always is,” the officer shrugged.

The curve of the corridor shortly ended and it ended with a wide round door.

“Somebody doesn’t like corners very much,” Andrew remarked.

“Valunian architecture,” the Doctor explained. “They don’t like sharp angles; they think it brings bad luck so they avoid its representation of any kind.”

The improvised cultural conference was disturbed by Monger’s coughing. The woman waved over an oval control panel and the door rolled away from the way.

“You may go in,” the officer added.

“Yes, indeed.” The Doctor nodded to the woman like a soldier while shepherding Andrew into the revealed room.

Monger locked the door after them and it made the boy shiver. He felt himself trapped since he arrived at the space station. Without the TARDIS, leaning only on the mysterious Annxira, they got stuck here, in this place which, furthermore, is in space. They didn’t have anywhere to go if they get into some kind of trouble. And his feeling of danger grew further when he stepped into the room.

The room was a large office, fenced by a round-based glass like an enormous panorama window. The space darkened outside, the faraway stars battled with the deep blackness in vain. A corridor-fitting arched desk was placed in the circle’s centre with different monitors on it. Elese could watch them from here.

The doctor wasn’t at his table; he was observing space through the window, seeming completely lost in the sight. He wore a similar coverall to the security officer’s but his was white and he was resting his hands in his pockets. The Doctor just wanted to make him notice them when the doctor spoke.

“It’s nice from you to visit me.” He turned with a wide grin on his face.

Andrew recognised the man, shuddering. His oily black hair grew whiter, his tan skin lost from its tautness and glasses sat on his bridge but the boy had no doubt about who he sees.

Immanuel Moreno stood in front of him.


	23. The Last Space Station, Part Two

The world started to spin around Andrew.

He felt like he was in the dark damp room again where he was locked in by Moreno’s men. The tight leather straps, the stifling air, the Tolkien’s sharp needles that bit into his skin… The memories rushed over him and he almost lived again every pain that the Spanish scientist caused him.

He clenched his fists while taking deep breaths. The moment came to his mind when Lynn, without thinking, rushed at the Doctor in Stanforth’s laboratory; she probably felt the same anger back then like the one he felt now. He didn’t know what kept him back from going at the guy who tortured him and wanted to beat him to death.

“You?” He pressed this one word out of him, trying to put his every anger into it.

“I aged a little,” Moreno fixed his glasses, “but you’re keeping yourself very well. Tell me… what’s your secret?”

The boy knew that the scientist was only joshing him, he knew it very much and Andrew’s rage was boiling on a higher and higher degree. Moreno felt very nice in this situation, no doubt.

The tense atmosphere was broken by the Doctor.

“You know each other?” He turned to his companion.

“He’s Immanuel Moreno,” the boy answered, shaking with anger. “He was the one who kidnapped me in June.”

The Time Lord threw an accusatory and angry look towards the doctor while stepping in front of Andrew, shielding him.

“I don’t deny and don’t mind it,” Moreno said seriously. “But I apologise for what I did on the roof, it was an aimless and useless act.”

Andrew didn’t want to believe his ears; he expected a lot of things but not a mucked up apology like this. Of course, it didn’t come to his mind that he accepts it. How could he, after what happened?

“You think that we’re friends from this?”

“No. But your friend said that he needs help. So, I thought, it’s better if we come clean before this.” Moreno turned to the Doctor. “So?”

“No, Doctor, no!” Andrew exclaimed. “I rather die than let this bloke touch me.”

“So you’re the one who needs help…” the doctor said with a faint smile. “We’re not enemies, don’t you see? If I have the power to help, I will. Look at me! I’m the doctor who helps people,” he pointed at the crucifix on his chest, “isn’t that a good thing? According to your own scale?”

“It is, but...” Andrew started.

“No but. You want to see the world too simply. I once had an interest that was opposite yours, that was it.”

“So you don’t want to hurt me now?” The boy narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not interested in that now,” the Spanish pinned down.

Andrew’s brain was working feverishly. He noticed that the Doctor loosened in his stance; he thought that the danger was gone. The boy felt like that he was hit on the face, that his protector left him. The man can’t believe that Moreno isn’t planning anything bad. Because Moreno was bad, wasn’t he?

“Isn’t there anyone else that we could go to?” Andrew asked the Doctor hopefully.

“According to Annxira, he’s the only one able to do it.”

“What am I able to do exactly?” the doctor threw in. “I would be glad if I’d get to know the story from start to finish at last.”

The boy sighed painfully. He really has to decide this: he can let Moreno examine him and, maybe, cure him successfully or resign from his only chance and wait at home for an assassination to succeed, putting his family into danger in this case. All this because of what Moreno did to him. But is this can be forgiven at all? He can’t just step over this, as if it didn’t happen. If he listens to his emotions, he goes out the door but his mind said that asking for help is the logical answer.

There’s another factor: the Doctor. The time traveller is here and protects him. He knows how mad the boy was at him after what he did to Lynn, that he waited in the background how the events end. The man’s intentions were good but he miscalculated and this cost two people’s lives. The boy hoped that this won’t happen to him. But what if it will? If, with deep sadness, but writes his name up into the list of victims and moves on?

Andrew’s head buzzed from these thoughts. Which reason should he listen to? Which reason is the right one?

“Alright, tell him, Doctor!” He decided at last.

Moreno patiently listened as the Time Lord told the story of the Nayad transmitter in Andrew’s head. It could be read from his gaze that some things became clearer, in relation to the boy. The answers that he wanted to get from the boy in Rome all those years ago, from his point of view, now fell into his lap. When the Doctor finished talking, the scientist stared out the window and got lost in the darkness of space like when the two time travellers arrived. After a few minutes’ brooding and humming, he spoke again.

“Yes, I understand the problem but I can’t see how I’d have the appropriate knowledge for this. That gadget could be very special; the Abstergo’s instruments didn’t detect it at all.”

“That’s why I brought this.” The Doctor scenically pulled out the Flute from his jacket.

Moreno’s eyes glinted avidly.

“Is this the Hamelin’s flute?”

“No, the Trickster’s.” The time traveller looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“I meant the Rat-catcher of Hamelin’s,” the doctor explained. “You know the story, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” The Doctor nodded. “It could be, I haven’t met him personally. Why do you think it’s his?”

“We kept our eyes on more than one relics, not only the rings,” Moreno glanced at Andrew. “We were looking for the Flute as well but it got lost at the end of the 1200s. And it’s really good that you found it but what will we profit from this now? We don’t have any rats.”

“This is a data store, containing the knowledge of the Nayads. Just play it and you’ll see.”

Moreno took the golden instrument with reluctance. He threw a flat look at the two time travellers then put the Flute at his mouth and blew on it carefully. The sound it made was soft and pleasant, nice and loosening. Andrew suddenly felt sleepy. He tried to stay awake, blinking a lot, while the Flute glowed up with the well-known golden light. The Trickster was very attracted to this colour; every one of his devices gave the same light out of it.

This time, the light didn’t pour from the man unto the device, like earlier, in the case of the crystal skull and the rings, but the other way: the light slowly filled Moreno. It went into him through his mouth and nose, imbuing his being. It was as if he would have been completely full; tiny golden spots appeared at his eyes like festering cigarette smoke, his pupils dilated then turned to gold. He was shaking then took the flute away from his mouth and started to laugh with a voice that came from deep inside him and was ringing unrealistically.

“This is very strange,” Moreno said when his laughter subsided. “There are so many things in my head. I understand so many connections like never before; I can almost see the threads of Destiny. And yours, Andrew, interlocks with mine.”

The boy didn’t feel nice about this statement. He wasn’t glad about that he has anything to do with the Spanish man. What happened in these minutes could be rated into a ‘needed evil’ category. He couldn’t believe that it was a good idea, giving knowledge like this to the doctor.

“Then you know what to do?” the Doctor interrupted Moreno’s laughter.

“Of course, of course...” The man panted when he had enough fun. He put his gaze on Andrew. “Andrew McAllistair, I’m going to kill you!”

 

The Doctor was watching the boy’s unmoving body worriedly.

With Moreno, they were waiting in the observation room next to the operating theatre, the Doctor not taking his eyes off the projector that was transmitting the image of Andrew, lying on the operating table. He wore the temperature-keeping suit of surgeon’s mates not to cool out inevitably but his skin still lost its every colour. His face was the same shade of white when he heard Moreno’s plan.

The doctor, still under the influence of the Flute, told them his plan: he kills Andrew for the Nayad transmitter to perceive that it has no one to advertise blood-money on. Of course, it wasn’t about a simple murder; the man owned a material that is vended by Death-Dealers, some kind of nanogene-mixture. The Death-Dealers inject it with a quickly killing poison into the system of their customers so they can resurrect moments after their ‘death’. The cell-level injuries heal and the buyers are part of a spiritual experience that could change their slant of life. Once one of his former partners, Leela payed for this, of course, without her knowing.

In Andrew’s case, the aim wasn’t the spiritual clearing; his system isn’t rebooted in a couple of moments by the nanogenes. He had to stay dead for enough time for the transmitter to shut down. This was the risky part. Of course, the man didn’t tell this to Andrew; the boy was already scared by the idea. He was glad that he could calm the boy down and didn’t want to go away from here again.

If the man could see another solution, he wouldn’t have pushed this. But he couldn’t. According to Annxira, only Moreno could save the boy’s life; of course, a lot of things were added to this: he was able to handle the Flute, had some of the Death-Dealers’ poison and was willing to execute that was needed. The Doctor agreed to it worriedly.

The boy was lying on the operating table for three hours now and the worry of the time traveller grew with every passing hour. Moreno obviously noticed this on him.

“According to the data, there’s no problem.” He waved at one of the medical monitors. “The oxygen supply is continuous, he won’t have brain damage. The Nayad device’s sensors are blocked by the nanogenes but it’s still working. We can’t stop now because we didn’t do anything then.”

The Doctor sighed tiredly, while looking at his watch again. At the umpteenth time.

“It had to shut down already. Why do the Nayads stick to him this much?”

“You don’t know?” Moreno’s eyes widened.

“No. I know so many things about the Universe but this secret didn’t reveal itself to me. Why, do you?”

“I don’t think so,” the man shrugged. “The Abstergo’s complete knowledge doesn’t match yours. But, if I remember correctly, the boy’s energy-marks are very special; the Tolkien could gain fuel for the rings without a problem.”

“It’s because he’s a time traveller; he stepped into the Time Vortex more than once, that was where this and that stuck to him.”

“I see.” Moreno nodded. “You can’t watch that monitor all the time; we’ll be notified if he becomes conscious. There has to be a chess board around here, should I look for it? We could play until then.”

The Doctor showed a faint smile; he couldn’t leave the absurd situation without a reaction. They are watching the corpse of his companion, while being invited to a game of chess by the doctor; this doesn’t happen every day.

“I think there’s no need.”

“You’re afraid that I beat you Mr Clever?” the doctor bantered but then fell silent. “Of course, I see, our situation is not pleasant.”

“If we’re here,” the Doctor held up his index finger, “why are you here? I got ready for coming to Elese’s clinic, but there’s no one else here apart from you two.”

“Oh, that’s a long story.” Moreno sighed while pulling a chair under himself. “That clinic did exist but that got destroyed a long time ago. It was demolished by a company of Cybermen. I was there as a civilian and Noanna as the member of the Shadow Proclamation’s troop.”

“Really?” the Time Lord mused. “I couldn’t see the ensign on Miss Monger’s uniform.”

“Larisk.” The Spaniard coughed.

“Excuse me?”

“Larisk. Her name. Noanna Larisk.”

“The daughter of General Khoan Larisk?” The Doctor’s eyes widened.

“Yes. She uses her mother’s name since the General sentenced the hospital to death. Despite of the ask for help, he didn’t send ambulance nor military ships. He couldn’t risk the lives of the Proclamation’s soldiers to save civilians. I understand; there are bigger things that are above us. Noanna couldn’t forgive this.”

“Then how could you escape?”

“What couldn’t be done by the Proclamation was done by the Janus.”

“Janus?”

“An organisation that has free entrance to the imperatorial court. They got me out of prison as well and gave a new life. I became Thadeus Elese.” The man sighed. “Then, in that attack, Doctor Elese was killed. That was when we got the opportunity to move here, on the Serigala. I came here because of the already mentioned things and Noanna because of defiance; she wanted to prove that she’s able to finish the war that her father, the great Larisk couldn’t.”

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. He suspected what the noble mission is. He suspected it since he looked out of the window of Moreno’s office: they were at the centre of the Tiberian Spiral Galaxy. And the Cyberman attack, mentioned by the man, confirmed his suspicion. Now he was only waiting for Moreno to say it at last. It was then when he could completely believe it.

But the doctor waited with the confession.

“You knew this all along, didn’t you?” Moreno looked at the time traveller. “What our mission is?”

“My sonic screwdriver perceived your transmission.” The Doctor nodded. “It’s a bit hilarious, you know? A super-weapon that can destroy all Cybermen, but it’s not ready yet. The Force really took the bait?”

“Yes. We got reports, they’re approaching continuously. They’re crowding here from all over the known space to stop the super-weapon’s completion or get it for themselves and use it against us. They’re very late.” The doctor’s gaze stared into the distance sadly. “A lot of people will die and I assist to their death.”

“You know how many?” The Doctor asked sympathetically.

He was startlingly familiar for the Doctor, the man who was sitting in front of him. He got ready to sacrifice a part of his species to stop a deadly enemy that threatens the whole existence. It’s dismaying that the statistics, the numbers come alive in these times and don’t let the man alone. The Doctor scratched his chin. Does he still remember how many people he sentenced to death on Gallifrey?

“No and it’s the better. Someone, more powerful than me, is worrying about the numbers instead. They have worse things to do than me.”

The Doctor understood what the Spanish man refers to.

“Because you will die with them.”

Moreno nodded tiredly. He looked at the monitor while taking off his glasses and cleaning them.

“I hope this will worth it.”

The Doctor didn’t know what to say. He also took a look at Andrew’s stretched body and wished the boy to become conscious. They were running out of time and couldn’t wait for the Cyberman fleet to arrive. Annxira chose an astonishingly bad point on Moreno’s timeline.

However, the Universe didn’t want to falsify the Doctor’s bitter thoughts, moreover!

The observation room’s door robbed at the side and Noanna Larisk ran through it; her face was red from excitement and her voice was shaking.

“They appeared on the long-range radar.”

Moreno jumped up, the sad fog lifting from his eyes.

“Not yet!” he exclaimed. “The boy is still dead.”

“But they did,” the officer replied flippantly. “I already reported to the Court, we got the coding command. I set the bomb. As the first Cyberman docker reached the station’s outer casing, it explodes.”

“It can’t!” The Doctor also raised his voice.

“You took on the risk when you came here,” the woman retorted.

The Doctor’s response stuck in his throat. It could look like this from Noanna’s part, though they didn’t know anything about the danger. His brain started to work, looking for a solution. In his mind, he imagined the stout Cyberman ships that were floating in space or just stepping out of hyperspace. After this, he saw in front of him as the docker ships speed out from the stomach of the large destroyers, like a hive. He counted how much time it would take them to get here. Will they do a situation survey? Or they’ll rush at Serigala, trusting their redundant superiority?

“Is there any weaponry on the station?” he asked hopefully.

“Nothing,” Noanna answered. “The aim was for them not to be able to blow it up from the hip. If they sense weapons, maybe they will start shooting immediately. This is why the bomb will activate in the last moment.”

“We have to hold them up.” The Doctor was looking for the sonic in his pocket. “Maybe, if I’d send out some kind of disturbing signal, they would come to a halt.” His hand felt the cylindrical body.

However, as he pulled it out, he saw that it wasn’t the sonic that he touched. He held the Flute in his hand. He wanted to put it back when the movement suddenly stopped. The Flute was still unfamiliar to him; he almost felt physical sickness when he touched the Trickster’s patchworks. But something came to his mind now and he was able to banish the uncomfortable feeling from his brain.

“You said that this was the Hamelin’s Flute?”

Moreno started to grin. There wasn’t a trail of the regretful doctor; he was quick to act and understood what the Doctor refers to.

“Do we play Cyberman-catch?”

“It could work.” The Doctor nodded, smiling.

Noanna looked at them in perplexity. She stayed out of the conversations around the Flute so she couldn’t understand why the two men are grinning at each other. The Doctor enjoyed this perplexity a little; he always felt good when he could be smarter than his environment. He enjoyed it better if he thinks the same with someone else.

“Noanna,” Moreno turned to the woman, “go down to the bomb and turn off the sensors! I will detonate manually. Then come back to the boy not to be alone when he wakes up. “

The woman saluted and ran off. The Doctor could still hear as she mumbled to herself: ‘idiots’. Still, she respected the doctor enough not to disagree with him and the time traveller was glad about that.

It’s time for the Time Lord to gain some time!

 

The Doctor was kneeling on the comm-room’s floor, next to the control panel. He took off the panel’s side earlier and now he was searching between the cables. He shunted the microphones to record only the Flute’s sound and now he tried to tune the amplifiers. The plan was that, instead of the bait message, broadcast Moreno’s flute play and get it to every Cyberman.

“I’m ready anytime.” Moreno licked his lips, his fingers moving impatiently on the Flute.

The Doctor only mumbled as a reply. The Cybermen got closer with every passing second; he didn’t have time for this…

“You’ve never experienced something like this before.” He turned his head back a little, while his sensitive ears listened to the different frequency sound of the sonic screwdriver. “The Flute isn’t only transmitting sounds; it feeds on your brain waves. We could say that it contacts the Cybermen through its sounds.”

“I get it.” The doctor nodded.

“I don’t think so,” the time traveller whispered. “Now,” he continued loudly, “we are very lucky because they already developed the Cyberiad, their collective consciousness, so you can get to them more easily. Which is, of course, a disadvantage as well because they can work against you with a bigger force.”

“So I have to make efforts like never before.” Moreno finished the thought.

“So he really gets it,” the Doctor murmured, then stood up and clapped his hand. “If everything’s true, I’m ready. Start to play!”

Moreno blew into the Flute, its sound filling the room. The man was covered by the golden glowing again but now it was glinting more aggressively. The man closed his eyes to be able to concentrate better but his eyelids were almost transparent from the light coming from his eye sockets. The Doctor was watching the scene, flabbergasted.

 

Moreno got lost in the sound of the Flute. It engulfed him and he could see the world through his closed lids: the Doctor, the tiny comm-room in one of the Serigala’s peaks, the three-ringed space station that was floating in space and the approaching Cyber-Force. The feeling was completely different from last time. Now his mind wasn’t infested by the images of the infinite, alien knowledge; he couldn’t see the colourful destiny-lines. He saw the music, the sounds as they reach towards the Cybermen like tentacles of some kind of unknown, enormous beast.

The tentacles reached the first docker ships, they went through the coldness of space, the metal walls and steel armours, touching the minds that once belonged to living, feeling people but now their rest was trapped in the robot bodies. He touched every mind one by one and was horrified. They weren’t human anymore, they were misshapen and unnatural. They were working based on rigid logic and there weren’t a trail of emotions left. How could he control this?

He put in every mental power he had to attack every Cyberman at one go. He felt as he enters the corrupted minds. He heard screams, choked, tortured cries for help; they were begging for death. He was surprised. In every Cyberman, there was the human who was consumed; stifled, maimed but still there and were shouting for mercy. Could he give it to them?

He felt the first push against him. The Cybermen noticed the danger and they didn’t laze. Like a firewall that senses a virus, they tried to get around him, push him out. But he didn’t let himself. He gathered everything that makes him human, his emotions, hopes, desires that could never come true. He recalled the anger that he felt for his parents, the excitement when he escaped them with his sister, the feeling of authority when he took the lead of Project Tolkien at Abstergo. He gave in everything and succeeded.

The Cybermen’s defence collapsed like a house of cards. He let the sound-tentacles reach down to the arms and stop the approaching ships. Then he looked for another target: the tentacles expanded, doubled and hang on towards the battleships. He felt the bridge that the Cyberiad meant between the Cyberwarriors; he twisted the limbs around it, going forward through it.

Other resisters arrived and others fell. He could almost see where the bridges are going like the roots of a nerve cell; he knew where the target is: the Cyber-Planner. The controller of every Cyberman.

“They stopped!” He heard the Doctor’s voice from somewhere, from a long distance.

This tiny thing didn’t matter to him. He didn’t bother himself; he was now fighting the Cyber-Planner. He felt that his opponent detracted energy from other troops, getting ready for protection. First, he left some space for it to be able to fight back with more power later. He backed away a little, giving up a little from his attention.

He was concentrating on the Cybermen, sitting in the docking ships. The armoured fingers moved, the ships turned and started to fire at each other. They wished for death, they get it!

The Cyber-Planner noticed the chaos but, for Moreno’s sadness, didn’t give up from his attention. It let its soldiers to slaughter each other because millions of them were waiting for its orders in different galaxies. Why would these unfortunates bother it, the creatures who sabre each other with their own lasers?

Moreno changed tactics. He changed to the Cyberwarriors who were controlling the Cyber-Planner’s ship; maybe it will disturb it, it there’s fire on its own base. He was disappointed by that this didn’t work. Moreover, it was as if the controller of the Cybermen would have laughed at him, if it was able to jeer.

He decided that it was enough of deflective actions. He attacks the Cyber-Planner directly. Let them find out who wins: the man in its full human being or the machine that feeds on its army, built up by tatters of humans.

He gathered all his strength and sprang to the attack.

 

The Doctor ran through the corridors, panting; he left Moreno alone a long time ago. He can’t help the man, can’t connect his mind to the scientist’s as support; that would bring unspeakable dangers. He reached the lift and was going to the second ring, back to Andrew.

He didn’t know how much time the doctor will be able to hold himself against the machines. Honestly, it already surprised him that the man had early successes.

The slowness of the lift almost drove him mad; he took out the sonic and switched the machinery to a faster setting. The turned off emergency brakes begged him, whining, to stop the frantic speeding. He didn’t listen to the screeching gears; he was only interested in Andrew, no one else.

The elevator finally stopped; he was already out of it, before the doors could completely open. He started another mad dash and didn’t even slow down until the operating theatre’s observatory; he only came to a halt there because the sonic-remoted door was opening slowly.

He stormed into the room where Noanna was already waiting for him.

“Any change?” he asked from the woman, puffing, while fixing his jacket.

“Nothing, the nanothings are still working,” the officer answered reservedly. “Why did you leave Elese alone?”

“I can’t do anything for him,” the Doctor admitted.

He looked at the monitors. They signalled that the nanogenes didn’t solve the problem yet, Andrew was still dead. How much more time do they need? His fingers were playing with the sonic. He could maybe quicken their performance. Of course, he reminded himself, the problem wasn’t with the nanogenes but with that stubborn Nayad transmitter because it didn’t want to shut down. And he can’t do anything with that; the Time Lords’ knowledge was less than the Nayads’. This was horrible to think over but it came to his mind more than once. He, himself, was powerless; every information he accessed could be thanked to Annxira. Annxira!

He quickly locked the world, Noanna, the room, his worry about Andrew, everything out of him. He retreated to the deepest part of his mind, to a meditative state where he could reach the owner of the Gallery who would have to watch his thoughts.

“Annxira!” he called the Curator in his mind. “Do you hear me? I need your help!”

No reply came; the alien didn’t pay attention or didn’t want to answer. Suddenly, the most horrible thought came to his mind: if Annxira doesn’t lift them out of there, the Time Lord will die in the explosion that will consume a whole galaxy with all of its inhabitants. And still, the only thing that hurt him the best was that he’s not able to get Andrew home.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Noanna was shaking his shoulder. “The monitor is beeping.”

The Doctor, losing focus, looked at the monitor that was really beeping. Both his hearts skipped a beat: the Nayad device finally shot down. The nanogenes started the recovery process. Surprising himself, he whooped loudly and cheerily.

 

Andrew slowly became conscious.

His whole body was shaking. He was blinking but couldn’t see anything, he tried to swallow but his throat stayed dry. His fingers weren’t moving, either. He marvelled at that his lungs were working at all, taking huge gulps of air.

Then his sight slowly started to clear; he discovered the lines of the lit-up, round room, especially the forcefully glowing lamps above his head. At last, the end of his fingers also moved, his chest was rising and falling. Life came back into his body.

“Doctor!” He wanted to exclaim but only cawing came out of his throat.

He saw that he has to rest speaking. His skin started to tingle, every beat of his heart shook him; he could almost feel as his veins fill up with blood. So coming back from the dead feels like this, he thought stolidly. Not a lot of people can tell say this about themselves.

Something appeared in his field of vision; it took some time for him to realise that he can see the Doctor’s bushy tuft above him. A relieved smile could be seen on the man’s face. So this mad experiment was a success.

“...you, Andrew?” At first, he could only see that the man’s mouth is moving. “How are you feeling?”

The boy replied with a forceful fit of coughing.

“Don’t hurry!” The Doctor smiled at him. “Your body needs time to recover.”

The man patted his shoulder. At least, he thought that the man did so; his body, similarly to his senses, transmitted the feelings loosely. However, he could feel that the man makes him sit, so, at last, the saliva didn’t flow back into his throat whose production finally started. Luckily, his tongue didn’t clog up his respiratory tracts.

He was still shaking. The Doctor put his jacket on him but it didn’t help anything; maybe he could have warmed up under four or five coats. He started to feel how his body went numb, every muscle of his stung. By choice, he would have stretched but his arms were still immobile, although he could control his fingers a little.

He didn’t know exactly how much time passed until his system started more or less. The Doctor helped him off of the table but he had to cling to the time traveller to stay on his feet. His shaking legs barely held the suddenly falling weight.

Accompanied by a quiet, whooshing sound, the door rolled aside and the security officer stepped through it. The riffle was there in her hand, the one with which she greeted them; she seemed nervous. She reached to her ear and pulled out her earphone that was hidden in her hair until now.

“Elese is asking for you.” She held out the gadget towards the Doctor.

The Time Lord took it without a word and put it in his own ear.

“I’m listening,” he said into it.

Andrew was wondering but he still couldn’t give a voice to it. What would Moreno want from the Doctor? What happened while he was dead?

 

Moreno couldn’t resist the Cyber-Planner’s attacks; the united power was too much to him. He felt that the prodding against him cut into his mind, cyber-claws tearing the tentacles helping him. He had to retreat.

He gave up the control on the Cybermen; the tentacles backed away and let the tortured souls go. He seceded from the sound, wanting to give commands to his own body. He forced his hands to throw the Flute away.

The golden instrument fell to the ground, clanking, and he fell to his knees. He was exhausted, his mind was tired as well as his body; there wasn’t a trail of the lifting euphoria that he felt before.

The Hamelin surely had a cushier time with the rats…

The scientist fought himself to his feet, slipped the Flute into the pocket his medical overall then stepped to one of the control panel’s drawers where they kept the ear communicators. He took out the first his hand touched and turned it on immediately as he put it on.

“Noanna, are you there?” he said into it.

The reply came straightaway.

“I can hear you. This was it?”

“I couldn’t hold on any longer. This kind of things weren’t made for me.” He sighed. “You shunted the bomb, did you?”

“Yes. You have to turn it on manually.”

“I’m going down,” Moreno said and did what he told her.

The lift was moving surprisingly quickly, almost speeding compared to the usual pace. It was probably the Doctor who fiddled with it, he was sure of it. If he was worried, the Time Lord could take stupid measures. The flute concert was one of them. Then the scientist shrugged mentally; after all, who wouldn’t be able to act on even the most desperate of ideas if they can help with it?

He contacted Noanna again.

“Did the boy become conscious?”

“Yes, the Doctor is in with him.”

“Great,” Moreno whooped. “Then all of this did worth it. Could you give your comm to the Doctor?”

“Of course,” the soldierly reply came.

Thanks to the lift’s expanded speed, he reached the third ring very quickly. He started to run on the curved corridor but his legs stopped working for a moment; he was lucky that he was stopped by the wall so he didn’t fall to the ground. He didn’t really come to himself after the bodiless experience.

“I’m listening.” The Doctor’s voice rang in his ear.

“I couldn’t hold them up any longer. They’re still approaching.”

“I could find that out from that you were looking for me.” The Doctor was worried. “How are you?”

“I’m fine enough to do my task. I can manage from here.”

He started again. The room containing the bomb wasn’t so far away.

“I’m sorry for the events playing out like this.”

“Don’t be. I won’t feel regret after these. You’ll be alright?”

“Me?” The other was surprised. “Why do you ask?”

“I know you could stop me if you wanted to. You still decided that you won’t. You can also see the greater good, can’t you?”

“We can say that. This isn’t the first choice that I have to live with.”

“I’m sorry for you!” Moreno tried to put as much sympathy in his voice as he could.

He turned at one of the doors, into the patient room where the bomb was kept. The weapon was made by the Emperor’s best scientists and now it stays on him, one simple man to light the igniter. Not a lot of people would do this.

The machinery was there, in front of him, which will end the life of billions. It occupied the whole room, while seeming tiny to its effect. The control panel was hanging from between the wires. One of the wires was pulled out from the wall and that cable led to the station’s damage sensors. Generally, they only ensure that if the outer cover gets damaged, the given sector will be closed off for the vacuum not to finish off the whole station. The bomb could have exploded with this but Noanna turned this function off.

He searched for the start button on the switch board. A push of a button and that will be the end of everything.

“Are you still here?” he spoke into the communicator.

“Yes.” The Doctor’s reply came immediately.

“What are you waiting for?”

“It doesn’t depend on us.”

“I will wait with the blast until the last moment but you have to hurry.” He fell silent for a moment. “Please, take Noanna with you! She doesn’t have to die here; I saw the strand of her destiny.”

This, of course, wasn’t true. He could really see those bright strands in the fabric of space-time but they were always changing; clogging together, breaking up or ravelling. Noanna’s was ending here, disappearing there or even continuing uninterruptedly. But the Doctor didn’t have to know about this diversity.

“I believe you,” the calming reply came.

“Great. And I wish good luck to the boy as well!”

There was no answer for this now, the communicator stayed silent. With a tired sigh, he acknowledged that he stayed alone.

He locked himself in the room and huddled as close to the start button as he could. Maybe he only had a second to push it.

As he was sitting there, he went through every moment of his life; he felt that this is the time of settlement. What good and bad he did during his short being. Everything he did in his life now fell onto him all of a sudden. He decided on his choices and now his choices define him. He never thought he’ll come to a star-gazing like this once.

He didn’t know how much time he spent there when, from an unknown source, brightness appeared in the room. In the middle of it, there was a figure. He was tall; his body was glinting in a golden light and was holding a long staff in his hand. His face was covered by a foggy cap, only his purple eyes could be seen under it. They were watching him.

Moreno started to grin. He didn’t imagine the Grim Reaper like this. So, the moment of death really did come.

He felt as the station shook. He could almost hear as the heavy metal-boots hit the floor of the corridor. All of them were stepping all at once, this caused the trembling. They will arrive soon.

He stood up. He will proudly accept death. He promised that he’ll wait for the last moment and he will.

The Cybermen stopped at the door. They probably looked around every room for the horrible superweapon. Well, they were lucky now!

The door smouldered as it was sparked off its place. As the first, emotionless metal-face appeared, Moreno hit the button with his palm.

 

The Doctor looked at the communicator uncomprehendingly. He just promised that he’ll take Noanna with him, and then he could hear that Moreno wanted to say something but the message never arrived. He already took his sonic to examine the device when he realised that he made a mistake: he let go of Andrew. However, the boy didn’t even flinch or fall. He first thought that the boy’s muscles restarted completely when he finally noticed that he didn’t move at all just like Noanna. Annxira finally tuned in on them.

“What took you so long?” he shouted into the time-frozen room.

“You were not ready yet.” Annxira’s distorted but dull voice could be heard.

“We are ready now. Let’s go! Noanna comes with us.”

“What do you mean? We did not agree about this.” It was as if the Curator would have felt offended.

“You already kicked over the agreement,” the Time Lord told him. “We will negotiate in the Gallery.”

“So be it!” the alien resigned.

The Doctor felt that he was taken out of time, every cell of his screamed against the process. It was a feeling like no other because they weren’t only pulled out of space-time, that was their natural place, but their body and mind were dragged into a pocket universe. This, in other cases, would have been fatal but Annxira’s mysterious power made safe travelling like this.

As his vision was filled with the infinite whiteness of the Gallery, he noticed that both Andrew and Noanna came with him. The boy fell to the ground, squeaking painfully. The woman was looking at the strange world as wonderingly as agent Adams did earlier. The time traveller knelt down to help Andrew up from the floor then waved to the Officer to take him. Noanna, although being bished, did as he asked.

“Annxira, come forward!” the Doctor shouted loudly. “Don’t hide!”

He didn’t believe that his exclamation called him forth but the Gallery’s owner really appeared in front of them. He seemed just as indifferent as before. The Time Lord’s anger didn’t bother him.

“I am here, Doctor. Did you bring the Flute back?”

This was when it came to the man’s mind that the Flute stayed with Moreno. It probably got destroyed with him in the explosion that devours a whole galaxy and scoops a forever dark hole into space-time, a wound that cannot be put right by anything. But this wound stands a certain species in good stead.

“Our deal stood before you gave us out to the Nayads,” the time traveller continued angrily, he didn’t care about the two human’s uncomprehending looks. “No Flute!”

“The Nayads?” Andrew looked at Annxira, scared.

“I did not give you out to them.” The Curator was on the defensive. “I fulfilled your request, the boy got cured.”

“But only almost, right?” The Doctor didn’t quieten his voice. “What bad luck would have been if we also get exploded with the bomb, wouldn’t it? Or it would have been luck? And, as a reward, the Nayads set you free from your curse.”

“Certainly not.” Annxira’s newer denial didn’t seem convincing now.

“What’s going on here, Doctor?” Andrew asked.

“Annxira is the observer of the Nayads.” The Time Lord turned to the boy. “They know when, where and who they should offer something from him. Which are the events that, with changing them, they can tear a large enough wound on the walls of realities.”

“They why did he help us?” Andrew was shocked. “He’s a double agent?”

“This was what I was thinking so far,” the Doctor glanced at the alien accusingly, “but it’s possible that he only wants to escape. You know that a Nayad deal is bad business. He got his power but also a mission with it. And he has enough of it.”

“I do not deny what has been said, Doctor,” Annxira suddenly spoke. “But I see that I cannot convince you that you see the causes and effects wrong.” He lifted his hand. “Noanna Larisk, where do you wish to go?”

“To my father,” the woman said simply.

“No, don’t you dare!” the Doctor yelled but his words didn’t have effect on the Curator.

The Gallery threw them out of itself.

 

In the last moment, Andrew was standing in the Gallery’s white dimension and now, he was doing so on the square in front of the British Museum.

He noticed with joy that he’s able to stand on his own feet but he wasn’t glad about that he’s still wearing the scrub suit because there wasn’t anything beneath it. After he stepped over his shame and embarrassment more or less, he noticed how big of a crowd there is around the Museum. However, this wasn’t the curious billow he saw in the morning.

He noticed a lot of police officers in the crowd, along with some ambulance men; the entrance of the Museum was locked. The robber-attack of the morning came suddenly into his mind. The chaos probably ended; the policemen secured the scene and searched the building. They couldn’t find anything, Portia Mallony escaped, taking the Flute with her and time will take care of the rest. The ambulance men were probably looking for injured or calming the scared visitors. This was when Lynn’s face appeared in front of him which was frozen in horror the last time he saw it.

He forgot about the discomfort that there was only a hospital cloth on him, that he was dead not so long ago; he was only thinking about Lynn. He had to find her, who knows how scared she was when Andrew just vanished from beside her. As if the attack wouldn’t have been scary enough in itself.

He threw himself into the crowd, his eyes were running back and forth just like in the morning. He was looking for the girl who he promised that he will stay next to her, even if he never told her. He knew about his promise that he, against his want, broke and now he was filled with guilt. He shouldn’t have left Lynn in a situation like this.

His search proved itself to be futile but then he heard his name.

He turned and saw Lynn as she got through two men. The girl arrived with an enormous speed and threw herself on him. Then she stepped back a moment later and pummelled into his chest. Andrew was very glad about that his body was still a little dull.

“Don’t do this to me anymore!” the girl told him, anger and joy mixed in her voice. “Where’ve you been? What are you wearing? Where are your clothes?”

“It’s a very long story.” Andrew grabbed Lynn’s fist before she could hit again. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Lynn smiled, as if her anger would have evaporated. “There weren’t any armed men in the room; all of them were only projections. The woman was the only real person who escaped not long after the both of you vanished. She was familiar from somewhere...”

“Really?” the boy asked carefully. He didn’t know whether he wanted to tell the girl who exactly the robber was.

“I don’t know.” Lynn waved. “I’m glad that you’re fine. So, where were you?”

“I will tell you for real but,” Andrew looked around, “is Agatha near here? I should get home but don’t want to take a bus in this garment.”

“Yes, of course, come!” Lynn laughed and pulled the boy after her.

Agatha was saying goodbye to a brown haired woman when Lynn and Andrew got near her. The archaeologist noticed them approaching and started towards them. She took off her scarf a long time ago like her high heels, walking in only socks.

“Would you believe how little the world is? I just met one of the Doctor’s other friends, Sarah Jane Smith and… My God, Andrew, what are you wearing?” Her eyes widened when she looked the boy up and down thoughtfully.

“I’ll tell you, promise, but could you take me home?” Andrew asked. “This cloth is very uncomfortable. Wait; did you say Sarah Jane Smith?” He started to crane his neck. “Where?”

Agatha waved behind him.

“She went that way… but I can’t see her anywhere,” she shrugged. “You’ll find her later, let’s go to the car!”

During the road home, Andrew summed up what happened to him after he disappeared from the Museum. He talked about the Gallery, Annxira, the space station, the nanogenes and that the operation was successful, he doesn’t have to fear the bounty hunters that surround him because of the Nayad signals. He also told them that the Doctor’s cooperation became an argument with the Curator but he himself didn’t understand why. For him, the time spent in death fell out completely so he didn’t know what happened at the station. On the whole, he was happy about that he’s over everything. Lynn and Agatha were glad about that as well.

The archaeologist’s blue Volkswagen turned down to Russell Street then stopped in front of the McAllistair house. Andrew got out of the car but bent back.

“Lynn, will you come in, too?”

“Of course.” The girl started to smile and got out of the car as well.

“I’ll go back to the Museum,” Agatha said. “There are still things to do. Something like this doesn’t happen every day.”

Andrew said goodbye to the woman then, with Lynn after him, hurried to the door of their house. There was that he realised that his keys was left in his clothing, on the deck of the space station. Along with his phone and other stuff. He pushed the bell and only hoped that Stephanie didn’t leave the house.

Luckily, the voice of his sister greeted him through the doorbell’s speakers.

“Andrew? Why don’t you use your keys?”

“Because I don’t have them. Would you let us in?”

“Why?” Steph asked back. “How would I know that it’s you? You could also be some kind of shapeshifting alien bounty hunter.”

“Steph,” Andrew huffed, “it’s me, Lynn’s also here. We don’t have to be afraid of attackers anymore, I’ll tell you why inside.”

His sister’s surprised yell could be heard from the inside then the lock rattled a moment later and the door opened. Agent Adams was also standing behind Stephanie; probably it was him who scared the girl.

“He said that you’re human.” Stephanie pointed at the Torchwood agent. “So, what did you want to say?”

Andrew waved his sister down, ran up into his room, searching for trousers and a t-shirt instead of the scrubs. And that can go next to the other clothes he brought home earlier. He had a very nice collection by now.

He hurried downstairs and told the story that he presented in Agatha’s car. Stephanie was listening with relief and joy, and then celebrated the events with a hug.

“I told you that everything will be okay,” she laughed.

Adams, as usual, noted what had been said with sombre nodding.

“I’m glad that it happened like this,” he said at last. ”I go and report everything to Archie.” With this statement, he teleported from the living room.

Andrew, still grinning, threw himself down onto the sofa. He closed his eyes for half a minute. The usual tiredness fell on him that he felt after every adventure ended. But now he had a reason to be happy; there weren’t any more Nayad signals. He was free, really free. He thought it strange that the Doctor didn’t appear immediately, maybe he really could have gotten into a fight with Annxira.

The boy allowed him the luxury not to worry about the Doctor. After all, the continuous threat and life danger has ended. If Nayads still have a rod in pickle for him, no one can know about that in the galaxy. He has nothing to fear from now on.

 

_Andrew would lean back but calmness is only pretence,_

_The chase is far from being ended._

_Offering themselves at the Nayads’ service,_

_Feared bounty hunters are waiting for their merit._

_They’re bloodthirsty, shifty, experienced creatures,_

_Against whom he can only ask Adams for help._

_However, the day’s danger is not only this,_

_Because his mother starts to suspect his trips._


	24. Doctor Mini - Only A Job

Life went on as usual in the notorious pub of Thruil’s third moon. The Machoron was full of the delegates of the galaxy’s most various species. And just like in the pub, on the flare path around it ships were resting which had all kinds of forms and functions, serving as imprint of the guests’ variegation. The lights coming from the building painted colours onto the moon’s artificial atmosphere, though the people inside were occupied by this play of lights the least.

The almost maddening voices made the normal volumed chatting impossible so everyone was talking louder and louder if they had any kind of important things to say. And these things were usually profanities, mentions of different predecessors and tunes rousing for battles. Of course, there were people who kept their problems to themselves, not caring about the outside world; they were either cursing their destiny or snoring on their chairs until someone kicked them down to make themselves room. Two Sontaran warriors started to argue and it was followed by a fight soon enough. Their surroundings circled them, encouraged them and bet on them.

Portia Mallony wasn’t impressed by the turbulence of the two cloned aliens. She was a frequent enough guest to know that these two were always arguing. All of this had only one advantage that the aliens could be differentiated by the wounds they got. While she took another sip from the bottle in her hand, her sharp eyes glanced around the pub and she could see every corner of this room: the entrance, the bar and, of course, the escape routes. She couldn’t let herself be surprised by anything. In her profession it was almost mandatory to have eyes on the back of her head.

The Ermokan barman did the best he could to serve his guests; he was driven by the worry about his own skin, rather than the love of his job. His worry wasn’t in vain: the last Kithonian barman was also a nice guy but he still ended up without his head. The Ermokan, between running up and down, sometimes cleaned the counter to get rid of the sticky substances that came from unidentifiable sources. Meanwhile pretending with all his strength that he didn’t notice the things happening in the pub; his wide eyes were always watching the ceiling somehow.

The head-voiced scream of a Lophian could be heard in the cacophony who was fighting wildly against two massively armoured figures not to be dragged out through the backdoor. No one hurried to help him; this kind of scenes weren’t unusual in the pub.

The two Sontarans’ fight took a turn when when one of them turned the other over. Portia took another sip from her wine then rose from her seat to see who’s going to lose. The winning fighter got ready to a final blow but his fist stopped in front of the lying Sontaran’s face. The cheering crowd fell silent.

However, the sudden silence wasn’t usual, the guests’ mouths still opened to shout but no voice came from their throat. Similarly to the Sontarans, they didn’t move, either, simply freezing in the middle of the movement. Life literally stopped in the Machoron.

Portia was blinking suspiciously under her black visor. She had never experienced that a whole room froze completely in the blink of an eye. She grabbed her Vortex Manipulator reflexively, running a self-test. According to the result, the strange event’s source wasn’t the time travel device but it was not capable of its original aim, either. But she was sure that time moved from its place and this was what finished the switch.

Before the feeling of helplessness could take her over completely, she noticed a movement in the corner of her eye: the two armoured, that fought the Lophian, straightened up. The alien stayed in the air, maintaining his strange pose, not even moving his glinting extension of a forehead.

“What’s going on here?” the taller figure murmured.

“I’ve no idea,” his partner looked around, his two artificial eyes glinting from under the glass of his helmet. “I don’t sense anything unusual. Apart from the obvious.”

Portia stifled a half-smile; she recognised the pair though they weren’t wearing this outfit last time. They could probably fish out some kind of very well-paying job recently. They were mercenaries; the galaxy knew them as Wickanam and Deadeye, they were known for not failing. Portia was able to mess with their statistics once.

It wasn’t long before Deadeye glimpsed the woman. Portia didn’t even try to hide. She instead sank into her chair, leant back and put her feet on the tabletop. She almost kicked up the wine bottle but it didn’t even moved; it just stood on the table as if it would have been glued there. The phenomenon that appeared in the pub became weirder: as if Portia and the two mercenary wouldn’t be right in this frozen world.

The armoured men’s eyes met then Wickanam started towards the woman who even intertwined her hands behind her head, seeming grotesquely sleazy. The armoured one reached for his helmet that parted from the collar with a hiss then threw it onto the table next to Portia’s bottle.

“Is this your fault?” He glanced at the thief with a dark, intense gaze.

Portia looked the bronze-skinned man, her gaze stopping on his crooked nose for a moment then stared into his eyes.

“Do I look like that?” she asked innocently.

“Yes.” Wickanam pursed his lips. “But okay, let’s say that it wasn’t you. Then who?”

“Maybe they were,” Deadeye shouted, his robotic eyes staring at one of the tables near the bar.

Wickanam and Portia turned. Three men sat at the table, two of them being able to move again, though it couldn’t be seen in the first moments. The younger-looking bushy man was sleeping, bent over the table and drooling onto it, only his snoring betraying him. Instead, his lean partner jumped up immediately, light glinting on his grey hair and beard and looking around with his back straight. His narrowed eyes betrayed that he also sums up the situation like a professional.

“Do you know who he is?” Wickanam asked Portia, not taking his eyes off the grey man.

The woman looked the old man up and down. As a thief it was necessary to have the most information available; Wickanam also knew that, this was why he asked her. As a matter of fact, only a few figures stepped into the pub sometimes about whom she didn’t know something.

“I do,” she replied.

“And will you tell us?” The armoured man was more and more impatient.

“How much d’you have?” The thief lifted her left eyebrow.

Wickanam took out his pistol.

“I’ve only this.”

The sight of the weapon didn’t bring a reaction out of Portia; she knew that he didn’t like to shoot. However, she was more afraid of the vibro-daggers that are usually part of the man’s armoury and wait in the hidden compartments of the armour to be needed. Wickanam handled those very quickly. And Portia was just in arm’s reach.

She couldn’t have even stood a chance against him with an unserviceable Vortex Manipulator. Finally, she shrugged.

“His name is Orcini, a knight or something.”

The mercenary appeared in front of the grey man with clashing steps, holding his gun, ready to fire. The old man didn’t even flinch when seeing the threatening armour’s approach; he calmly faced the half a head taller and much wider Wickanam.

“Would you please put that pistol away?” Orcini asked reservedly.

“No, until I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You aim your weapon at the wrong man, son.”

Portia was watching the scene with pleasure; she was interested in what will happen. She heard about Orcini, she was sure that it wasn’t him who caused time to freeze. But informing Wickanam about this wasn’t her thing to do. He’s a big boy, he’ll find it out.

Orcini turned his torso towards the mercenary who lifted the gun, so he could look into the barrel. The knight took a quick look at the weapon, and then touched his waist in a split second. His long travelling cloak swung back and the metal blade of his sword glinted when it was slipped out of its holster. Orcini’s left hand was lifted and it grabbed Wickanam’s fist that held the weapon and was pushed above his head so the gun’s barrel was looking towards the ceiling. At the same time, the sword’s edge ran over the copper-skinned man’s bare neck, drawing a couple of drops of blood. The mercenary didn’t even have the time to be surprised.

Of course, he was a professional on his own way as well, he didn’t show if he was scared. Deadeye already took out his own sidearm. Wickanam grinned at the knight.

“My partner would shoot sooner than you’d be able to take my head off.”

“It’s not my intention, son.” Orcini grinned back. “I won’t start killing in the presence of a lady.” He glanced at Portia then turned back to Wickanam. “But if you would try it, we can do that outside.”

In this moment, the other man lifted his head from the table with a loud snort. All eyes were on him. He looked around with a foggy, woozy gaze.

“Wha’ is this?” His jaw dropped. “Life’s frozen and chilled?” Then slumped back onto the table.

Wickanam, in spite of the blade stroking his neck, couldn’t stand not to laugh. Orcini also grinned widely then put his weapon away and let the armoured mercenary to lower his hand. It seemed that they had a silent agreement between them that was sealed by the good mood. Portia noted that this could be a man-thing.

“He’s Bostock, my squire. Forgive him, he’s this dull because of alcohol!” the old man said.

While Deadeye put his gun away and joined the group, Portia stayed on her chair. It was comfortable there for her and so she could keep an eye on those who will wake up from the crowd in the pub. She was sure that there will be others. And she was right: another of the customers became conscious, this time, at the bar.

He was a humanoid alien, his skin was grey and rugged and a horn paraded on his head. His only eye flinched when he couldn’t lift his beer from the counter then noticed with a head-registered murmur that the jug is not the only thing that isn’t moving. He turned, looking around the pub with awe. Portia saw from Wickanam’s stare that he also recognised the alien: Tr’qk Eau was one of the most wanted bounty hunter who never left a trail or corpse behind.

A Hurrin came out of the crowd surrounding the fight-frozen Sontarans; he was obtuse and confused. He bellowed on his deep, rich voice.

“What’s going on?”

“As if we’d know.” Wickanam looked at him.

“Is this some kind of trap?”At the Hurrin’s leg, a tiny creature squeaked who was just as tall as the other’s knee. “Was it the Shadow Proclamation? Will they overrun the Machoron?” His breathing became quick and piping as he started to panic.

Some other drinkers also reached for their weapons, almost believing the words of the short alien, and decided that they won’t give themselves up without a fight. Wickanam, Deadeye and Orcini looked around worryingly; they didn’t like the wave of panic.

“Nobody can trap Shagol, the most famous Space Slayer!” the Hurrin shouted, throwing his chest out.

“This is not a trap,” an unworldly, strange voice spoke.

All eyes turned towards the door that didn’t open, though a figure appeared in the entrance. It was tall, covered by a glinting, silvery armour and turquoise light came from its joints. Its thick legs held it up strongly and its arms hung by its sides. Its head was hidden by a helmet whose emotionless eyes stared straight ahead. Still, there were two, pale purple lines that went from its eye sockets to its slit-like mouth and they brought the feeling as if it’s crying. The voices from the pub were mixed but Portia could hear the realisation from a few of them.

A Cyberman stood in front of them.

“I did not want to frighten you, I only needed your attention,” it said slowly and articulately.

“You got it,” Tr’qk grumbled.

“Thank you!” the armour replied, not noticing the creature’s accentuation.

The guests, as if they were mesmerised, sneaked closer to the Cyberman and formed a semicircle around it. Portia stayed in place because she could hear everything perfectly from there. There was something unusual in the walking tincan and it wasn’t only that no one saw a working piece since the Cyber War. Its irradiation reminded her of anything but the numb machine-creatures. Because she couldn’t determine this, she decided to just listen now.

“I would like to offer a job,” the armour stated.

“What kind of job?” the Hurrin grunted.

“A well-paying one.” Came the reply immediately.

“Let’s stop for a word!” Orcini said. “Maybe you should introduce yourself first! Let us know who we would offer our services for.”

An agreeing rumble ran over the crowd.

“I am known by the name of Annxira. This is my negotiator.” No reaction came to the machine’s words; seemingly no one heard about its master. Portia didn’t, either which was especially unusual.

“Why are we needed in huge numbers?” Tr’qk looked around. “I’ll do anything alone.”

“The job is not without danger; your death is a likely outcome.”

“Hey, hey!” Shagol snorted. “You’ll have to pay a lot then.”

“I will not pay. The reward of the successful work will be taken care by the Nayads.”

“Now, that’s something!” Portia yelled, while taking her legs off the table and leaning forward. “We’re listening!”

No one argued with the woman thief; it was well-known that the Nayads aren’t used to giving usual rewards: like some kind of cosmic genies, they made the deepest wishes come true. At least, the stories said this.

“The mission is extinguishing the life of a creature,” Annxira continued. “Does any one of you have any moral concerns against this?”

Though it wasn’t generally a problem of the Machoron’s guests, there were people who raised their hands. Most of them were smugglers or slave traders, maybe snoopers; Portia would have been very curious about how this Annxira chose the guests, why did he think that they’re the ones who are suitable for this mission. She was now sure that the machine-creature’s strange master is responsible for the events in the pub. Her suspicion was proved by that the hand-raisers immediately stilled and froze again.

The woman didn’t say a word. Murder wasn’t her cup of tea generally but she wanted to know more about the job before commit herself to something. It was a recurring thing that not one way led to finishing a mission. If the Nayads want to see somebody dead, it’s enough for her to deliver them there and the creatures will finish them themselves.

After no one saying anything again, the armour started to tell them about the murder’s details.

“The target lives in the 21th century, on Earth. He is a human.”

“Do you know that it’s a bit far from here?” Tr’qk pulled his mouth sulkily, as if he would still grieve his beer.

“I will take care of you getting there,” the voice coming from the standing machine added.

Before he could continue, a wide-shouldered, unshaven human man raised his hand.

“Sorry, mate, but I won’t kill a human,” he woofed, his two partners nodding behind him.

Annxira didn’t ask back, he made them still as well. Portia just smiled on this, what a rubbish thing is outlaw-pride! In her eyes, everyone was primarily the citizen of the universe and the delegate of a species after that. What is equality if it’s not this?

The Cyberman’s hanging arm was now lifted and a holo-projector glowed up on its palm. The appearing hologram showed the Earth, along with its twenty-first century ratios when there were clearly distinguishable continents on it. Portia was familiar with that era but didn’t like to think back on her time spent on the planet. This, of course, didn’t avert her from finishing her missions. Sentamentality is for amateurs.

Another window opened next to the hologram, listing the planet’s specifications: atmospheric composition, air pressure, gravity, weather and things like that. After the presentation, three other guests said no: they weren’t willing to work in the conditions resembling the Earth’s. The picture started to zoom, closing on one of the archipelagos on the planet’s northern hemisphere, then on a city, built around a river. The woman thief was there as well, on more than one occasion. The city had a very bad luck, that it could make someone in the universe pay attention to it. Beside the city’s blueprint, the target’s threedimensional picture appeared.

“Hey, I know this!” the Hurrin laughed. “He was on Evwar’s Deathrace, too!”

“This is a kid!” Orcini was shocked. “I won’t take part in this; I won’t execute a defenceless child.”

The knight and his squire joined the frozen. Portia knitted her brows; the case, evidently, wasn’t this easy.

“He’s surely not defenceless.” Deadeye also suspected this. “Then you wouldn’t try to hire us. What’s the trick?”

“He is under protection. He is observed and guarded by a Time Lord named the Doctor,” Annxira replied.

Deadeye turned to Wickanam who waved to him and stepped back.

“Thanks for the opportunity, really,” the red-skinned stuttered, “but we’d give it a miss. We had a business with his daughter and it wouldn’t be fair after that, you know, pride and everything...” He took a look at the stilled Orcini then stepped to the Lophian. “Plus, this figure is also has to be delivered...”

Annxira ended the monologue; both mercenaries stilled as they touched the alien. The thief remembered the blonde girl whom the Doctor called his child. She somehow wasn’t surprised by that she, too, runs into every important figure of the universe; bad habit that she inherited from her father. She also nettled her and in this pub, no less.

With Wickanam and Deadeye’s exit, only three people stayed mobile in the building, apart from the Cyberman: Shagol, Tr’qk and Portia. The woman didn’t see the Hurrin as an opponent; she was sure that she’ll catch the human boy before him. The case was different with Tr’qr Eau; because she didn’t know the secret of his success, she couldn’t tell how fast he works.

The emotionless helmet turned around, as if looking the last applicants up and down.

“Do you have any questions?”

“How much can we kill during mission?” Shagol asked. “I mean, how many human-whatsit’s death fit into it?”

“There may be no collateral damage.”

The Hurrin leant his head ahead, as if he would be sad.

“It’s not that fun this was… But alright, I take it.”

“I’m in,” Portia raised her voice.

“Me, too,” Tr’qk spoke. “And what about our equipment? I think you don’t wait for us to catch him with our bare hands.”

“You will get an hour to get ready. I will wait for you here and take you to the target after. From there, everything will be your thing to do.”

After saying this, the Machoron moved again: the Lophian was still screaming, the Sontarans hitting each other, the bit scarcer crowd around them raging. The ones in the middle of the pub spread, while Tr’qk and Shagol hurried out the door, probably for their ship. Orcini shook his squire up and they left the pub. And Wickanam and his partner pulled their annoying prisoner out. Portia could have sworn that the mercenary will go to the first holo-station after it to talk to the Doctor’s daughter; there was something conscience-like in the man.

But it was as if no one else seemed to have noticed all of this. They didn’t even pay attention to Annxira’s negotiator, it just stood stiffly at its place; it probably didn’t get any orders from its master. It was standing like this in the next one hour. And Portia stayed in her seat; she was curious about what the other two will come back with. Their equipment can show some things about their methods. While she was waiting, she reached for the wine bottle again and watched the pub again.

She noticed the barman whose side mouth opened for a tired sigh after noticing that someone left their beer on the counter. He waited for a bit but when he saw that no one goes back for it; he quickly took the jug, poured it into a bottle and put it under the bar. Someone else will buy it, if it wasn’t needed by its former owner. Things are going like this in the Machoron.

The deadline was finally up. Space Slayer Shagol really dressed up for the occasion: he wore a huge brown poncho that was decorated by the crest of his clan and it completely hid his figure, along with every weapon he equipped under it. Only the cumbersome solid-bulleted rifle could be seen that was strapped to his back. However, Tr’qk Eau didn’t bring anything with him but a glass cylinder in which a thick, mist-like black material was churning. Portia was very curious now about what’s in it. She stood up herself, swallowed the last sips of her sweet wine, and then walked to the Cyberman. She took a quick glance at her Vortex Manipulator that was working again.

The negotiator shook, looking the three of them up and down.

In the next moment, the armour vanished but they weren’t on the third moon of Thruil anymore. They were standing on a leaf-covered hill, on some kind of field. The sky was covered by dark clouds and a strong wind was blowing. All three of them had a data disk in their hands, with more information about the target’s address and suggested strategic locations. The two aliens looked around then at the disk, surprised, but Portia stayed calm.

If she was right, it was autumn. She took a deep breath from the wet air. She got a glimpse of the city’s buildings that Annxira showed, about fifty kilometres from them. It seemed, their mysterious employer didn’t want to make their job easier. However, she wasn’t bothered by this: while her opponents started towards the city, she reached for her Vortex Manipulator and found herself in her ship a moment later.

She won’t play be Annxira’s rules because she wouldn’t be able to guarantee her own success. She looked over her equipment. She knew the Doctor’s methods; she couldn’t take anything with her that the Time Lord could make harmless or turn against her with his sonic gadget, so she didn’t take her loyal pistols, only a couple of knives that were made of weren-steel. Her hand stood in front of her visor but she left it on her. She was looking good with it, after all.

As she stepped out of her ship and locked it appropriately, she did another jump with her Manipulator. She had to stop Wickanam, if he would still attack, notify the Doctor’s daughter. Luckily, she knew a hacker who was able to shut down the communication satellites in this part of the galaxy so she won’t have to worry about this.

While she was standing in front of the man’s house, waiting for him to open the door, she planned the catch of the Earthling boy. She will travel a couple of days earlier than where Annxira sent them and make a field survey. Then, with the necessary information, she will find a method to kidnap the boy from the Doctor’s gaze. She was sure that the Doctor keeps an eye on his protegé, as usual. Finally, she will report to Annxira, who will get her to the Nayads, she finds out what to wish for and she will live more happily than before.

She wasn’t worried at all. After all, it was only a job. Moreover, from the easier kind.


	25. Honour of Thieves, Part One

A chilly autumnal wind ran through Russell Avenue, bending the balding branches of the park’s trees and tearing off a few, still clinging, leaves. These plucked leaves danced in the air until they got stuck on the windshield of cars or houses’ roofs. The thick november dew was replaced by the dawn hoar that sat out onto the grass like crystals. Crows were forking in groups above houses, watching, and croaking, whether they can find anything to eat.

The McAllistair house was still penetrated by the morning’s calmness. The grandfather’s clock was clanging singly in the living room, its sound echoing in the stairway. In the kitchen, the mother of the McAllistair siblings was bustling about as quietly as she could, making breakfast for the family. She made tea, sliced bread, cut vegetables and set the table for three people. Then she sat onto one of the chairs and rested her eyes, leaning back.

Andrew, in his bed, was listening to the clock and the unmistakable noises that were coming from the kitchen. His mother wasn’t a late riser like him and Stephanie. He turned onto his side and reached for his new mobile phone to look at the time. It was just past eight o’clock, he was musing. The thought came to his mind, that he could sleep back but he didn’t find himself being sleepy. He looked at the mobile; its feel was still unusual. He missed the one he got from the Doctor and his own mobile that were left on Moreno’s space station, along with every other stuff of his. However, agent Adams helped him out. Moreover, he attended to the boy’s every problem with pleasure. He was the person who got him new IDs and a mobile, using the same Torchwood account from which Lynn was supported.

The boy sat up, sighing; another regular day is waiting him. It was hard for him to admit that he missed the adventures with the Doctor. He was happy, of course, for that his life wasn’t in danger but all of this ended too suddenly. He hadn’t seen the Doctor since the space station, he didn’t have an idea about what happened to Moreno or why the Time Lord had an argument with Annxira. Instead of answers, he got a normal life again.

Summer flew past quickly after the last adventure and school started again. At the end, they weren’t classmates with Lynn; the girl lived with the opportunity offered by Coal Hill and enrolled there, though it was revealed that it wasn’t Agatha who arranged her application. Andrew suspected that the Doctor recommended her to the principal, maybe as a compensation for participating, though a tiny bit, in wrecking the girl’s life. At least, she was having fun, more or less being accustomed to the twenty-first century, although there were aspects that embarrassed her. Luckily for her, Clara was always there to help her; they became friends.

While Andrew was wondering about his normal-again life, he dressed up and went downstairs. As he expected, his mother was in the kitchen, sitting on a chair with her eyes closed. The boy smiled, there wasn’t a trace of the numbness John hart’s weapon caused her in the summer, his mother recovered from it completely. The woman heard her son’s steps and looked up.

“Good morning!” she greeted.

“You, too, Mum!” Andrew nodded.

“How come you’re up early?”

“Just because,” the boy shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Andrew poured himself a mug of tea then sat down to the table as well. He didn’t start a conversation, he let the two of them to enjoy the early peace. For their biggest surprise, soon Stephanie also ran down the stairs; it seemed that the curse of sleeping late avoided everyone. The blonde girl also greeted them then, with common consent, started to eat their breakfast.

The weekend’s joint meal became a tradition these last times. It started in the summer, after Andrew came home from Pluvia. Firstly, it was Stephanie who waited for her sibling, seeing that Andrew was in the habit of sleeping later than her. And the boy started to wake up earlier, to not to miss breakfast. Then it became a habit.

Although they were generally chatty, no one spoke during today’s breakfast: the two kids were awake but weren’t shaken up completely and their mother didn’t interrogate them. The quiet meal was disturbed by the ring of the doorbell.

On Sunday, in the early morning, an event like this was very unusual. They weren’t waiting for any guests so they couldn’t imagine who that could be.

Andrew jumped up from the table and hurried to the door, swiping his hand over his mouth while running. He took a quick look at the gate phone’s screen and his stupor evaporated. He was shocked to see agent Adams who was ringing the bell. The boy’s hand stopped in front of the knob. Why is the agent here? At least, he could be grateful for the fact that he didn’t teleport as he sometimes did.

Andrew took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Agent Adams?” the boy greeted him.

“You have to go away!” the Torchwood agent told him, without saying hello.

“What? Why?”

“Our satellite images signalled aliens at London’s border. They’re squarely coming this way. You may not have much time left.”

Andrew was taken aback upon hearing the news.

“How’s that possible? I don’t have the Nayad signal anymore.”

“I can confirm that. But it doesn’t change the fact: you’re in danger.”

The boy’s brain was working furiously. He didn’t have a reason to doubt Adams’ words and if alien murderers are really approaching their house, his family would need to vanish. If he could notify the Doctor, if he would still have his phone, this would be easily solved. However, he didn’t have the opportunity to do that.

“Can you speak to the Doctor?” He looked at Adams. “Send some kind of distress signal or something...”

“Our base never had a direct connection to him.”

“I can’t call him, either,” the boy explained sadly. “You could find one of his former companions. Clara, maybe.”

“Miss Oswald is not available,” the agent interrupted. “Do you know someone else who could contact the Doctor straight away?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Andrew murmured and sighed. “Then let’s start at the beginning. Are you sure they’re coming this way?”

“Yes. They might observe your house earlier, before you even deactivated the signal.”

“Why did they wait this long? Three months passed since then,” Andrew mused, while trying to stay calm. “Can we suppose that they only know the house? If we go away, can they follow us?”

“I think they know their target.”

Andrew hummed, thinking.

“So, if we go away, separately, then Mum and Steph won’t be harmed, will they?”

The agent stayed silent. However, Andrew didn’t have a better idea on his mind. He didn’t know how else he could protect his family. He didn’t have any weapons or a magnificent gadget so this was the only solution.

He hurried back into the kitchen without a word. He had to convince the others to leave the house. If it would only involve Steph, he wouldn’t have a hard time telling her, she would understand the weight of the situation. But what should he say to his mother? Every one of his earlier attempts were futile when he tried to tell her about his summer adventures but he couldn’t fight the Nayad memory-altering compound: the woman forgot everything he said or, at least, understood it in a different way. He gave up trying and hoped secretly that he won’t have to tell her this anymore. The events falsified his hopes. He had to think of something!

As he stepped into the kitchen, the people sitting there turned to him.

“Who was that?” Steph asked.

“Agent Adams,” the boy’s tongue slipped. “We’re in trouble.”

“Who? What agent?” Their mother looked at them suspiciously.

“I am,” the agent’s voice cracked at the door.

Andrew jumped in fright. He thought that Adams will wait for him outside until he’s finished. However, the agent took control, marching into the room and stopping in front of Andrew’s mother.

“Robert Adams, at your service!” He offered his hand.

The air froze in the room. The siblings’ eyes met worriedly, then they were watching the scene before them, what its end will be. Their mother was staring gloomily at the uniformed man standing opposite her who, to seem friendlier, pulled his ragged, brown scarf away from his face. The result was not the waited one, as the wound across the agent’s face had a scarier effect.

At last, the woman stood up reservedly and accepted the offered hand.

“Elaine. Elaine McAllistair,” she introduced herself. “What do you want from my son?”

“I want to protect him.” Adams reached into the pocket of his uniform and took out his ID holder and gave it to the woman. “I work for Torchwood.”

“Torchwood?” Elaine observed the ID, looking at the letter ‘T’ uncomprehendingly. “Like the one on TV? Is this real?”

Adams nodded nervously.

Andrew was looking at his mother with a worried expression: the woman was just staring at the ID holder, seemingly speechless. The silence started to get longer and more awkward. The boy felt that he had to break it.

“Do you remember, Mum, what I told you last summer? About the Doctor?”

“I think so.” His mother looked at him. “I’m sorry but I don’t remember everything clearly.”

“For a reason,” Andrew added. “But the point is that I was telling the truth back then. I know the Doctor. He’s real, just like Torchwood. I’ve travelled with him, more than once but I got into trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Worry was showing on Elaine’s face.

“It got solved more or less,” Andrew tried to calm her, “but not completely. So please, I really ask you to go away while there’s danger!”

Elaine was looking at her son, taken aback, what she heard was probably unbelievable for her. She looked at the agent wonderingly, then at her daughter. Steph cowered before her, as if trying to seem invisible, but she couldn’t hide from her mother’s gaze.

“You knew about this, Steph?”

“I did,” the girl answered, looking down. “You have to believe what Andrew says! Everything is true. Everything.”

There was another pause. Everyone was waiting for what Elaine had to say.

“I don’t know what to believe.” The woman was turning the ID holder. “What you ask for is so unbelievable, so unrealistic.” She looked at her son. “But I don’t doubt you. Where should we go?”

“Away from here, far away. Okay, not so far away but don’t stay near the house!”

“And what about you?” Elaine’s voice was trembling with worry.

“I’ll stay with agent Adams. He will protect me.”

The agent coughed then nodded.

“I will take care of him!”

Elaine sighed deeply, put Adams’ ID onto the table and went out of the kitchen to get ready for leaving. Andrew stepped to Steph.

“Talk to her, okay?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“The Doctor said that the Nayad gas is like a Silent’s ability: if you don’t concentrate, it activates.”

“I see,” the girl was nodding. “So, I have to talk about your adventures? About the Doctor?”

“Yes, whatever you can tell. She mustn’t forget that you have to stay away from the house.”

“You can count on it.” Steph hugged her brother, surprising him. “Maybe we could go to Lynn’s place. She could also help.”

“Good idea.” Andrew got out of the hug. “Be careful, alright?”

“You, too!” With this, Steph left as well.

Andrew was eavesdropping wonderingly; they were talking while getting dressed, according to the noises coming from the entrance. The unsaid worry engulfed him and it was as if a real fog would have appeared, he could barely breathe. It seemed to be a good idea, sending his family away but he still felt that he didn’t make the right decision. Maybe he couldn’t have. He was scared.

He looked up at Adams’ tiny movement, when the agent put his holder away. The man sent a surprisingly warm glance towards the boy.

“Hard, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

“It’s not permanent.” The agent tried to cheer the boy up but it wasn’t successful. “It will pass.”

They went out to the hall as well where the others were ready to go. Elaine was spinning her car keys in her hand nervously. As she glimpsed her son, she stepped to him, pulled him towards her and hugged him.

“Be very careful!” she whispered. “I can’t imagine what madness you got into. Don’t be harmed!”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Andrew moaned in his mother’s grip, though what he said sounded like a lie. “When we’re finished, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Dress up, not to catch cold!” the woman continued.

Andrew huffed angrily. As if catching cold would be the biggest danger!

“Mum...” he murmured, but warmed immediately. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” Elaine let the boy go, hugging Stephanie quickly, then looked at Adams. “Take care of him!”

The agent pulled his scarf in front of his face again.

“He won’t be harmed.”

 

 

Andrew was watching from the door as the family’s grey Vauxhall started its way from the front of the house. He just caught the old neighbour lady’s curious looks, then he stepped back into the house. An unspeakable fear gripped at his heart, he felt like he made a mistake. As he pulled the door closed, he could hear murmuring. He looked into the living room where he glanced agent Adams, standing in the farthest corner. He was pushing his index finger to his ear; he was talking to someone through his earpiece.

The boy quickly went back into the cover of the wall of the entrance. He wasn’t in the habit of eavesdropping but he was very curious about what about and to whom the agent was talking. Especially now when the alien bounty hunters could break into the house anytime. So he stopped at the wall with bated breath.

“You said that Archie got it done… Don’t they have better things to do?” Adams was indignant. “Let’s say, wrap the Zygons up?” He fell silent then sighed resignedly after half a minute. “Alright, Max, connect me.”

There was a pause. Andrew was thinking about who this Max could be, the one the agent was talking to. He mentioned his name earlier, when they were discussing Lynn’s stay in London. He’s probably one of Adams’ colleagues or some kind of undercover man. Though seeing that they mentioned Zygons, he can be another Torchwood agent. And who could be the third one who has this thing with the aliens? Andrew couldn’t wonder more, Adams spoke again.

“Robert Adams,” he introduced himself to the person at the other end of the line and this was followed by another pause. The man was huffing angrily, bugged by the situation. “Ma’am, with the biggest respect, you wouldn’t be able to make a bigger mistake. If you send soldiers, you will make him a target.” Another pause. “I’ll accompany him, it will be less flashy. Then you can protect him all you want but don’t even hope for me to leave him alone. This is still Torchwood’s business.” Another pause. “The Doctor is not here; his opinion is secondary. Adams out! Did you hear this, Max?” He was talking to his partner again. “They nose into everything.” He giggled bittersweetly. “Yeah, of course! Call if there’s something else to know!”

Andrew took a deep breath as he heard the creak of the old floor. Adams started. He can’t be busted. He threw himself away from the wall and stood in front of the rack, as if he would have been examining that until this moment. He twitched when the agent’s thick boots tramped behind him. Andrew turned slowly.

Adams’ other times lifeless eyes now glinted with anger. As a matter of fact, this was the first emotion the boy saw on him. The upset eyes, when glanced him, slowly gained back their well-known, stoic form.

“Change of plan,” he stated. “We’re going to the Tower!”

Andrew wanted to ask what they had to do at one of London’s landmarks but he realised the answer for the unspoken question. UNIT has a base under the Tower, that is known as the Black Archive and they collect there everything that’s somehow related to the Doctor or other extra-terrestrials. And with this, Adams’ discussion made sense: this organisation was responsible for the Zygons’ peace negotiations on Earth, at least according to Doctor Who’s latest episode. The series didn’t lie until this point, why would this be an exception? And UNIT’s London department was led by Kate Stewart, the Torchwood agent could be talking to her. What could they agree on about which Adams took umbrage of?

“Why?” The boy asked only this.

“UNIT.” Adams sighed tiredly. “Stewart can’t handle the situations when she can’t take charge. She thinks that she has the right to get into Torchwood’s cases as well. She wanted me to leave you to her soldiers. But I could reason with her; I’ll take you to the Black Archives and I won’t leave you alone there, either. I will be beside you all along.”

His tone was like saying a ceremonial vow. Andrew marvelled at it but was glad that he can expect Adams’ protection. The sullen uniformed more than once proved that the boy’s health is important to him, even if he couldn’t save him sometimes. Andrew would have given him a grateful smile when he finally realised how nervous the agent seemed. Both of his hands were on his belt from where, contrary to usual, two pistol holders hung. His fingers were drumming on those.

“How is that you didn’t bring your rifle?” the boy asked.

Adams looked down at the boy, perplexedly, then pulled his coat away on one side. A silvery pistol grip could be seen and a bluish light was pouring from its holder.

“I will be less flashy with this.”

“I’ve seen something like this!” Andrew marvelled. “Your parents used similar ones to this."

“Exactly this.” Pride was pouring from Adams’ voice. “A durable piece. But let’s go, we don’t have much time!” He grew serious.

At the wave of the agent, Andrew started to dress. He put on his coat and a cap onto his head, twisting a scarf in front of his face. He thought that his possible attackers would recognise him a bit harder like this if they can only rely on their eyes. However, as he glanced himself in the mirror of the entrance, he froze; even he couldn’t recognise himself. Only his eyes could be seen from his ‘mask’ but they were completely different. They changed and he hadn’t noticed this before. Everything he lived through left a trail in them but he wouldn’t have thought that those experiences could be seen like that. Did someone else notice it?

He had to tear his eyes from his changed reflection with force and a couple of minutes later he tried to lock the disturbing thoughts from his mind while fighting with the chilly wind outside. He had to concentrate on the present situation; he has time to think about how much he changed by the Doctor’s side. He just has to be alert until they get to the tower!

Adams let the boy to ponder about things, shepherding him with only mute gestures. He was watching instead of Andrew, too, observing their surroundings with close eyes. And still, unbeknownst to them, a woman, dressed in black, came forward from between the houses of Russell Avenue, who then went after them.

 

 

Portia Mallony was grinning confidently in the base of a red brick house while watching the home of her target. If she would have believed in a god, she would have been grateful for them because she found the easiest job of her life that could become the most rewarding. There’s no enough money, spaceship or weapon that can compare to an opportunity offered by the Nayads. A large part of the Universe knew them, their preachers or mediators were everywhere and spread the legends about the species. At first listening, all of it could seem to be a tail but the really well-informed people knew that if the Nayads find someone worthy then that person could take part in an unimaginable wealth. And this grabbed Portia’s imagination very much.

She glanced at the chronometer, built into her Vortex Manipulator, that showed time according to Earth’s time zone. She had to wait a couple of minutes more. She can indeed wait that much, she wasn’t worrying.

Because of her employer, Annxira, brought her here, along with the two other bounty hunters via time travel, even she had to stick to some rules: for example, she couldn’t kidnap her target before they arrived Earth the first time; this could rip a tear in time because there wouldn’t be a target for whom they came for…

She shook her head to avert her thoughts; she didn’t want to busy herself with time paradoxes. The point was that she had to wait.

She looked around in her shadowy hiding spot, checking the street once more and her visor giving her numerous information about the weather, the lights and everything that was measurable by devices. The glasses-like gadget accompanied her on almost every adventure of hers; she would have even trust it with her life. Shame that leaving it home came to her mind even for a minute. But it could have been a risk easily: according to Annxira, the target is the Doctor’s friend and she won’t get anywhere against him with any kind of electronic or mechanical device.

However, she was lucky unless it wasn’t about Annxira’s careful foresight in this case: the Doctor was occupied by the leadership of a peace conference between Earth humans and thousands of Zygons who came to conquer the planet. And this meant that the target boy was a freejack.

From her point of view, she spent days with observation: she noted the boy’s usual paths, his acquaintances, his home. He led an expressly boring life that meant an advantage to Portia. Maybe he wouldn’t be missed by a lot of people.

Her two bounty hunter partners came to her mind who would be sorry when the kid disappears. She giggled when she imagined their faces when they get the information that they came here in vain. And by that time, she’ll be sitting in the pilot seat of the West Wind and on her way to Annxira to receive the huge reward for the boy. It would be time for her to think about what she would ask for from the Nayads.

Her happiness was disturbed by a sudden movement. From the target’s supposedly inhabited neighbourhood, a figure appeared. He wore a blue uniform and backpack, had a brown scarf in front of his face; it was a miracle that he could see anything from under his ruffled hair at all. His stance was broken and his shoulders slumped but Portia knew immediately that he was a soldier. She had to search her memory for only a moment to realise that she knew that guy: years ago, when she broke into one of the local museums, he was there.

She aimed her weapon, seeing through all his tricks and she would have shot him if her weapon doesn’t vanish into thin air for an unknown reason.

Portia’s confidence wavered a bit. The uniformed was making his way to the target’s house and the door was opened for him soon after and he was let in. The man’s appearance was definitely a confounding factor. The thief was staring at the house, flabbergasted: can’t go everything bad now! She drew a deep breath and fought down the momentary panic. She can’t lose the biggest opportunity of her life!

Her chronometer beeped: it was time. She has to do something now. But she couldn’t do that until the soldier stayed by the target’s side. It didn’t matter that she had her Vortex Manipulator that could take her anywhere in time and space, she couldn’t just teleport in and out of the house. She had only one jump that sent her into her ship so she had to calculate and set up every jump, even the tiny ones, for example the way to the target’s house.

Minutes passed by but the soldier didn’t want to leave the house. Portia grew more and more nervous. It already came to her mind that the man only came here to ruin her day. Or the Doctor suspected what will happen and sent a protector to the boy? The Time Lord was a spoilsport so this was totally imaginable.

The door opened but it wasn’t the uniformed that stepped out of it but the target’s mother and sister. The target himself stayed at the doorstep until his family got into the grey car in front of the house and left. The boy seemed worried and it was favourable for Portia. If someone is worried and afraid, they make good decisions harder. And she could be sure that the boy was informed about the danger. The target backed into the house, seemingly not noticing the thief. Portia’s lips formed a self-confident smile again.

After some more minutes, the target also left the house, along with the soldier. The boy wore a coat, a scarf and a cap to hide his features. He looked like the soldier’s smaller clone. However, their similarities ended there. In contradiction to the boy, the soldier was observing their surroundings without intermission. Portia was sure that he’s watching with every sense of his and this lowered her chances to a sudden attack.

In the end, she decided that she won’t jump and run for the boy, hoping that she catches him before the soldier shoots her. She had to play safer than that. She will follow the pair and wait for the appropriate moment. After all, opportunity makes the thief, as the saying goes.

 

 

Another plan fell flat.

Andrew did a quick calculation in his head while trying to hide between the underground station’s pillars, as Adams commanded. The result was more than aggravating: all summer, every attempt to protect him failed. He wasn’t mad at the agent but he had to admit that no matter how the man tried to help, things always turned out differently. Now, for example, one of the bounty hunters found them.

When they left the McAllistair house, everything seemed positively simple. They just cut through the streets, get on a tube, then a squad of UNIT soldiers wait for them at the Tower and they wait together until the bounty hunters get bored of searching for him.

Of course, it wasn’t the thing that happened! As they left the stairs leading to the station, the pair found themselves face to face with an alien. He was two heads taller than Adams and bulkier. His arms bulged with muscles and his figure was hidden by a knitted, poncho-like cloth. He had a blatant rifle strapped to his back but he didn’t take the weapon into his hand, for an unknown reason. As they arrived, the alien dashed forward, yelling, from between the tunnel’s shadows, saliva spilling from his wide mouth. The creature’s appearance was followed by the screams of the people at the station.

The agent knew the ropes; he reacted immediately and jumped out of the alien’s way, while pushing Andrew to the side who almost fell. The creature turned quickly and reached after the boy but the Torchwood agent hang onto the attacker’s thick arm. By this time, most of the people waiting for the underground left the station, and the rest, with phones in their hands, stayed behind only to record the unusual fight.

“Hide!” Then the order sounded.

The boy obeyed. Andrew ran between the pillars while watching the man who got the hits from the bounty hunter. However, the agent was taking every one of them, grunting, and fighting back, sometimes successfully. He took out one of his weapons but the alien was aware of it and hit it out of his hand and the gun fell onto the tiles of the station. It came to Andrew’s mind that he should fetch it but he was sure that he wouldn’t have been able to use it. He didn’t have the ability nor the will to do so.

He decided that he’ll go for the weapon when he heard an unusual hissing sound from the tunnel. He thought it was like when air escapes from a hermetically closed bottle. The phenomenon didn’t make any sense for Andrew; he got used to a lot of noises in the station but this wasn’t one of them.

The boy took a couple of careful steps towards the weapon, not to be noticed by the wrestling pair. The bounty hunter, like a bear, hugged Adams from behind and started to tighten its grip on him. The agent was thrashing, the scarf slipping from his face during the struggle. He tried to loosen on the grip, stomping and kicking, maybe hitting something important but the alien held him assertively. In his final exasperation, the agent snatched his legs up, hoping that his weight will pull them both forward. The bounty hunter really wavered; using this momentary weakness, Adams put his legs down and kicked himself out. Pulling his head back, he was able to hit the alien’s neck and it fell back, groaning and taking the shouting man with it.

Andrew couldn’t see clearly what happened with them after that because of the vibrating lights. He was staring at the ceiling, confused, and realised that the problem wasn’t with the lighting. In spots, like a cloud hides the sun, dark hasps stuck to the lamps, covering them fully and it was almost impossible to see in the filtered light.

Andrew crouched down and snatched up the agent’s weapon. Its grip was unfamiliar to him. He noticed from the corner of his eye that it was as if the tunnel’s darkness was thicker than usual and maybe it was moving, swirling even. Shadow-tendrils reached out from the tunnel’s mouth, clambering towards him, avoiding garbage bins and pillars.

By this time, the video-recording pedestrians fled from the station. Adams stood up, moaning; only his silhouette could be seen. Next to him, the alien was lying, rattling and clutching his throat with one of his hands; he wasn’t up for another fight. The agent made his way towards Andrew immediately but in a slow pace, stumbling, thinking that he will fall over something.

The boy’s attention was on another shadow-wave. The thick limbs reached him completely. He started to back away in desperation. He noticed a few more figures who were hiding between pillars or under benches but he couldn’t decide whether they were scared people or attackers, ready to bounce.

The agent grew bored of the darkness because a light staff flashed in his hand. The shadow came to a halt abruptly, the new light source capturing its attention. The boy was still walking backwards until he bumped into something. He felt that his neck was grabbed. He was gasping for air with wide eyes, his body spasming and his fingers barely holding the agent’s weapon. A slender arm reached next to him and grabbed the barrel of the gun.

“You won’t need this,” the arm’s female owner told him before throwing the pistol far away.

Andrew, with his now free hands, reached to his throat but his attacker was holding him securely; he couldn’t fight her off him. Then a strange tingle covered his body: a thousand needles pricked at his skin, his bones turning from their place. He felt giddy and the world disappeared in front of him.

 

The West Wind’s so far silent inside was filled with the noises of wrestling. Portia, arriving, almost lost her balance because of the boy’s push. Though her body didn’t react that vehemently at time-travelling with a Vortex Manipulator, the momentary weakness was enough for the target, strengthened by his instinct to live, to show a real resistance. The thief braced herself and tried to squeeze her prey’s neck stronger, hoping that she would be able to end the fight with this. During the fight, she yanked off his coat to get even closer to him. However, the boy didn’t give up, scratching his attacker’s arm with his hands but he couldn’t shake it off. The woman pushed him forward, letting him go and the kid fell onto the ship’s metal floor, moaning. Then Portia took down the magnetic handcuffs from the wall and knelt down onto the boy’s back who yelled out painfully. The handcuffs were placed onto the target’s arms within moments, pinning him to the ground with his face down. It seemed he saw that his situation is a losing one because he stopped struggling.

Portia stood up, sighing heavily. The fight made her sweat; she didn’t expect him to defend himself but she had a wide grin on her face when she thought that she was able to tick out another point on her precisely worked-out plan. She now only had to deliver the boy to Annxira and receive her reward.

She took a proud look at the boy stuck to the metal floor then stepped to the West Wing’s door. It came to her mind that she puts the glider into stand-by mode, making leaving quicker, but she knew well that Dashaalt wouldn’t be happy about it. And it was positively worth getting on well with him if she wants to station the ship here further.

As she left the vehicle she called home, she took a deep sniff from the air that was thick with the smell of oil and hydraulic liquids. Someone else would have hated it but this strange mix of smells brought up pleasant memories in her. She was observing the steel girders of the hangar’s walls numbers of times that almost got lost between the indentures of the rock walls so they could give the unique sight of artificial and natural environment. Light was provided by huge, hidden lamps and the different tools were always working in the hands, tendrils or anything the ship-fixing shipmen could hold something with. If someone was observant, they could learn the typical swearing of lots of species.

Dashaalt built his shop in the empty stomach of one of the largest rocks in the Brotenil asteroid belt. If someone didn’t know where to find it, they didn’t have a chance to get here and this meant that the shop’s Mortir boss was only willing to business with people he liked. Portia, luckily, was one of his favourite clients. At least, she liked to think that.

Some time ago, the whole sector belonged to interstellar mining companies and, when they raided everything and went away, Dashaalt was the first to stand in their place. He started his shop then, sacrificing serious amount of wealth, he equipped a lot of smaller space pebbles with gravitational drives, making him able to alter the image of the whole belt as he wanted.

The Montir’s service was the most popular among the creatures that were working on the darker side of the law. Smugglers, mercenaries, bounty hunters brought their ships here if they needed fixing or upgrading. Dashaalt didn’t ask, gaining a lot of money in exchange, and he always got what he needed. The West Wind could also thank him a couple of gadgets, including her military-level cloaking device.

Portia, right after finishing her look-around, went to search for the Montir. Generally, he could be found in one of the fixing halls; if a very sensitive equipment had to be installed, he liked to set it up himself, instead of leaving the job to fumbling space-scoundrels. So he was always busy. A large room, the home of the Wind, contained two more ships but she couldn’t see Dashaalt at either of them, though there was barely any roundup around the two Hunters. Whether they just arrived or intend to leave, it was none of Portia’s business.

However, her leave was also slipping and she wasn’t very glad about it. She was afraid that the Doctor will notice the kidnapping of the boy and investigate her; he had his methods. So the best thing to do was to vanish as soon as she can and confuse him with a couple of smaller space-jumps. This way doesn’t matter how he finds out the starting point of the time travel, he would have to follow the trails of space travel with traditional methods. But to make it work, she had to leave when she’s able to.

On one of the corridors that were connecting the fixing halls, she met Dashaalt’s assistant who, after offering him some credit change, went to get his boss. And the Montir arrived ten minutes later.

Dashaalt could barely called a creature, seeing how he made himself reinstalled during the fifty years of his life. He preferred the name ‘augmented’, but he seemed more like a cyborg, though Portia could understand even that, who simply saw him as some kind of fancy robot. His longish face was half-covered by metal, his mechanical eye walking all the time, zooming and observing, providing his brain with information. His left arm and leg were also mechanical; he lost the original of the latter in his shop. Supposedly, his first upgraded part was his arm and he did it just for fun and not because of an injury or a congenial spot. His other accessories weren’t this scenic: his lungs were complemented by different filters so he could breathe in the thickest oil or toxic cloud and, as the saying went, he also replaced his stomach to get rid of the difficulties of digestion. He could be recognised from far away by his jolting, hulking steps. Now he was also wearing his unmissable, spotty overall. He greeted the thief with a wide smile.

“Already?” He opened his arms.

“Yes, already,” Portia threw to him, while stepping closer. “We agreed that I’ll have to leave faster this time. Very fast.”

“I know that,” Dashaalt scratched his head on its original side, “but there’s a little problem. You can’t go yet.”

“There are no problems with you, Dashaalt.” Portia’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the sitch?”

The Montir whined a few times which made it clear that he has to say something he doesn’t want to.

“Korak is looking for you. They know your ship is here.”

The blood froze in Portia at hearing the name. She’s made a lot of mistakes in her life but the biggest one connected to Teng Korak. Incidentally, that she talked with him at all. Korak was a Zhak terrorist who was extruded even by his own, aggression-loving race, and who was now leading the most extensive racket of the galaxy. The gang was multifarious and engaging in everything that was forbidden by laws, from the biggest crimes to the tiniest violations with theft among these. This was what brought Portia into the picture; she was searched by the Zhak’s men because of a promising lifting. She didn’t know back then that there’s no such thing as ‘only a job’ with Korak. Portia was stuck there like a slave; until an opportunity arose to redeem herself. Then that business went wrong and it led to two relative years of hiding.

“Did he say what he wants?”

“I don’t ask, you know that. And I won’t lie because of you, either.” Dashaalt knitted his bushy eyebrows.

“I didn’t ask you to,” Portia protested.

“But I saw that you wanted to tax me with it. At least if you could,” the Montir giggled, then changed his tone. “Even you aren’t worth the destruction of my workshop. I won’t provoke Korak.”

Portia knew that the mechanic was right but she was sorry for that he didn’t send the terrorist away. It wasn’t that she wanted to get him into trouble; if there was someone she could call her good friend, it was Dashaalt. She quickly went through her options in her head: she couldn’t escape with her ship, she was sure that one of Korak’s heavy cruisers would blast it into pieces in a second. She could use her Vortex Manipulator but she would leave the West Wind for Korak and, most importantly, the boy who she’ll get the Nayads’ reward for. She has no other choice, she has to wait for the Zhak to tell her what he wants, then talk his head off to, at least, let her go until she delivers the Nayads’ target. And then she will wish Korak out even from reality.

“Alright, let him come!” she said sullenly.

“You’ve made a smart decision,” Dashaalt turned. “But don’t make him shoot you, okay?” He looked back over his shoulder before waddling away.

Portia left him without an answer; she was only listening as the Montir’s machine-leg hisses and sizzles with every step. As the workshop’s boss vanished, she hurried back to the West Wind. She tried not to think about the inviting pilot seat. Avoiding the boy, she went to one of the wall-compartments where she kept her equipment. She quickly looked over everything she found in there: knives, pistols, a few melting-grenades and other thief-gadgets which were useless to her in a fight.

She was curious about whether Korak comes alone. As arrogant as the guy was, she could see he would but she didn’t believe he would be this stupid. He also knew who he tries to stalk. He’ll come with two or three men and won’t let her keep weapons with her. She can only rely on her brain, if he arrives.

“Comfortable down there?” she spoke to the boy lying on the floor, to calm her surging thoughts.

She was surprised when he shot back something.

“I wouldn’t say that.” She could barely understand his words because he was lying on his face.

Portia was staring at the figure that was cuffed to the floor contemplatively, then knelt down next to him.

“And what would you do about it?” she asked, grinning.

“I don’t know yet,” came the murmured answer.

She opened her mouth to answer when she heard the well-known and feared voice.

“Portia! Come out!”

The thief straightened up, sighing.

“Behave yourself!” she threw to the boy before leaving the ship.

Outside, she was greeted by what she expected: Teng Korak and three humanoid gunmen. It was as if Korak wouldn’t have changed: he wore the same polished armour and half-short cut hair; maybe only his red eyes shone more evilly. His right hand rested on the grip of his pistol that was strapped to his thigh. The faces of his bodyguards were covered by skull-patterned helmets that became the symbol of Korak’s gang although it was only copying the ‘boss’’ own helmet-paint. The men hugged powerful blasters to their chest but they could aim with them anytime. Behind the gunmen, Dashaalt was standing with a worried expression. ‘Don’t cause trouble,’ his stare said.

“Spread your hands!” Korak snapped at her. “And don’t even think about your bracelet!”

Portia’s luck was that they didn’t know how her Manipulator works. In this case, she couldn’t have used it because her ship was only a few metres behind her. But they didn’t have to know this. She did as the terrorist leader asked.

“What do you want, Teng?” she said back. “I’ve already paid you. I’m free.”

The Zhak reached into the bag hanging on the belt of his armour to pull out three datacards. Creditbanks. He held them out towards Portia. The woman swallowed, recognising the cards: she gave him the money for her freedom on them.

“There’s a little problem with the cover.” The Zhak’s face twitched. “The money is from Goron Ewvar but he’s deceased. So this, here, is nothing.” He started to grin. “And it means you’re still mine.”

The woman’s blood froze from this cold smile. She almost couldn’t concentrate on what the Zhak said. How is there no cover on the credits? But she got them from John Hart who swore that everything is okay with it. This whole situation seemed like a nightmare.

“And how is it my business that he was meanwhile hit by a supernova?” She tried to seem casual. “His money still has its value.”

“He died when this amount was taken off his account,” Korak explained but it seemed he grew tired of the conversation. “I thought you were more professional than this; you know bloody money doesn’t work. I’m almost disappointed in you. But your service is still valuable.” He finally put the creditbanks away.

Portia realised that she can talk herself out of this. Whatever Hart did to get the money, he could look over something. But to break his neck as revenge, she has to get rid of Korak first.

“Let’s make a deal!” she started. “I still have a shipment. I deliver it and I’ll gladly join you. I know how things are going.”

“Then you would also know,” Korak interrupted her, “that you have no ‘shipment’. You belong to me, I just told you, didn’t you listen? You aren’t some kind of freelancer to transport to whoever you want.” He lifted his gloved hand and waved. “Bring that shipment! We can take it.”

Two gunmen walked onto the West Wind, fulfilling Korak’s order.

“But you don’t even know where to,” came out of Portia. “You won’t go anywhere without me."

“You’re still not listening. You’re coming with us, too!”

The last bodyguard stepped behind Portia and pulled the Vortex Manipulator from her wrist. The woman let him; she knew that they would shoot sooner than she could do anything. She felt almost naked without it; the loyal little gadget didn’t leave her alone even in her sleep. She didn’t take it off for years.

“And what about my ship?” she asked, maybe with more worry in her voice than intended.

“Dashaalt will take care of it ‘til necessary,” the Zhak replied. “I heard you’re in very good terms.”

Portia took a look at the Montir involuntarily who fell his original eye. Meanwhile she heard the knocking of the bodyguards’ boots on the West Wind’s ramp. They needed this much time to set the boy free of the magnetic handcuffs.

“I’m guessing, this is it.” Korak looked at the kid.

Portia just nodded; she couldn’t do anything else. Her mind was reeling on how this beautiful day could turn into a horrible one.


End file.
